


Two Houses, Both Alike in Dignity

by youreyestheyglow



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angel/Demon AU, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:38:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 39,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heaven and Hell have always been set against each other. But when the Heir to the Throne of Heaven and the Prince of Hell unknowingly form a relationship, will they bring Heaven and Hell together? Or will they be torn apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god I didn’t mean to make this a Romeo and Juliet thing, and I promise that it will be a hell of a lot better than that three-day debacle.

"What's it like down there?" you ask Jade.

She shrugs. "It's very... strange. There's pain, for one thing. And pain is very diverse, and it isn't always physical. There are so many feelings, and they're all so strong - I spent the first three days in my room, because it felt so  _strange_. I didn't want to go out into the world with all those feelings running amok. I don't know how to explain it, but you'll understand soon.

"And humans are so  _diverse_. Up here, we practically have a hive mind. There is no disagreement, because the correct path is always clear. If it weren't for the humans, we wouldn't even have a word for disagreement; the concept doesn't exist up here. Down there, it's the only thing there is. 

"We also get the concept of intelligence from the humans. We know everything there is to know; no angel knows more than another angel. Humans know different things, and understand them on various levels, and sometimes have different learning capabilities. They have to  _learn_ things. They don't just _know_ them. It's very strange."

You swing your legs back and forth as she talks. You're not really listening to her, if you're being completely honest. You know you'll do fine. You'll still be an angel, you'll just have a human body, so you'll still know everything. And it's not like you have to worry about being provided for; you'll be surrounded by Heaven's best Earthbound operatives, working to ensure that you always have what you need and stay out of danger while still getting the full human experience. It can't be  _that_ bad. You certainly can't imagine sitting in your room for three days. You only get 365 days on Earth, after all; why would you waste three of them away from humans? The whole  _point_ of this is to make sure that every angel understands humans. They're your father's greatest creation, after all. And as Heir to the throne, you must understand who you will be ruling.

You still can't believe you got lucky enough to have Jade as an older sister.

She was in line for the throne - and she'd definitely have been a great ruler - but being down on Earth changed her, somehow. She decided that she could help people, end some of their pain, and lives on Earth near-permanently. She dropped the title of Heir and picked up the title of Witch. You thought it was offensive, but she says that humans call her that because what she does looks like magic. So you became Heir to the throne.

And now it's your turn to go live among the humans for a year.

You're absolutely sure it won't change you as much as it changed her. After all, you're going to a much nicer place than she did. 

"How do you use technology?" You ask. 

She whips out her cellular phone. "This is called an iPhone 5. It's produced by a company called Apple..."

You sit and listen, entirely absorbed in the concept of  _googling_ something - it's very strange that the humans have created their own version of God on Earth, this  _website_ with all the answers - until you feel your body begin to seep out of this reality. 

"Bye, Jade," you say cheerfully.

She hugs you as best as she can, which doesn't mean much - you're not really physical anymore. "Bye, John. Call me if you need anything!"

Her smiling face is the last thing you see before you're in a human body, on Earth. 

You turn in a circle, peering around the room in which you stand. It has a beige carpet and white walls. This is... the...

You don't know.

How strange.

Wait - they  _did_ say that you would experience minor memory loss for a few hours, as your new human brain worked to encode century's worth of memories. You remember that.

You have to start  _remembering_ things.

What a  _drag._

You do what's called  _exploring_. It's infinitely weird to see something new, something you've never seen before, and incredibly exciting.

The first room you were in - a living room! That's what it's called! - contains a brown couch, two chairs, two little tables - side tables, you think - and a large television set. The next room has a dark red tile floor and white walls, a pantry full of food, a refrigerator full of food, a sink, a table with four chairs, an oven, a microwave oven, cabinets full of dishes, drawers full of utensils - all things you're pretty sure you don't need. How often do humans get hungry, anyway? 

As you walk through the doorway into the next room, your toe bangs into the wall.

Pain blossoms, sharp and insistent, and tears well up in your eyes. Tears?  _Tears_? You've never cried in your life! 

You've never felt pain like this, either. 

You find yourself instinctively grasping your toe, hopping around on one foot as you fight to maintain your balance. It's a lost cause, and you fall to the tiled floor of the  _dining room_. Your butt hurts now. 

You press a hand to your eyes, but something is sitting between your hand and your eyes, and now there's an enormous smudge in your vision. You remove your  _glasses_ , and the world becomes a strange blur of color that almost distracts you from the pain. 

You put your glasses on, and take them off. On. Off. On and off and on and off until you get a headache. The world is so beautiful, both when it's sharp and clear and defined and when it's a blur of colors, all running into each other. 

Of course, now you've got a headache, and it feels like there's a metal band around your head, contracting until your skull is going to smash in. You're not quite sure what to do about it, but when you walk into the windowless bathroom where it's dark, the pounding fades. 

You wander around your house, closing blinds and curtains, until the house is lit by whatever dim light seeps in through the cloth over the windows and the tiny lights of the digital clocks. You lie down on your bed, which is soft and squishy and warm, and study the ceiling while you wait for the pounding to fade. 

Your eyes begin to close. You snap them open. Are they supposed to close? Is this how one  _falls asleep_?

You close your eyes. They snap open. You don't understand. Are you falling asleep or aren't you? You roll your eyes. Bodies are strange.

You return to your study of the ceiling. 

Your eyes begin to droop shut once more.

You do your best not to affect them.

They close. 

You cease thinking for long periods of time.

You're falling! You're falling, this is it, you barely lasted an hour and a half as a human - your legs jolt beneath you as they attempt to catch you, but there's nothing to catch yourself on -

Your eyes are wide open. You're in bed. You haven't moved.

You pat down your pockets, hoping that - there it is!

You pull out a phone. 

You fumble with it, squinting against the bright light it eminates, until you find the  _contact list_. Jade's name is there, under the name "Jade Harley." You wonder what  _Harley_ means. You dial her number and hold the phone to your ear.

"Hello?" 

You jump as her loud voice is broadcasted directly into your ear. 

"Jade?"

"John! How're you doing? Is everything going all right?"

"It  _hurts_."

"What does?" Her voice takes on a strange tone that you've only ever heard when your father discussed how Hell was affecting the humans. It's called  _concern_.

"Well, I was walking around my house, and I hit my toe, and it hurt  _so bad_ Jade, I don't think there's any pain worse than that one - and then I grabbed it, for some reason, and lost my balance, and fell over, and then my butt hurt, and then those things called  _tears_ began dripping from my eyes and then I found out I have those things called glasses that you wear when you're down here and I kept taking them off and putting them on, because I couldn't decide if the world was prettier all sharp and defined or all blurry and colorful, and then I got a headache, and now I'm lying down in bed in the dark and my eyes closed all by themselves and then I was falling but I woke up and I was still sitting here, in bed, is that normal? Is that an illusion? Am I being affected by one of Hell's demons? Why are you laughing?"

When you acknowledge her muffled giggles, they erupt into full-blown laughter. "John. You stubbed your toe, fell over, and gave yourself a headache. It's not that big a deal, and it's entirely your fault. I know it hurts a lot, but you'll get used to it. Or - well - not really - stubbed toes  _hurt_ \- but it's still not that big a deal. And it's perfectly normal to feel like you're falling before you fall asleep, but it doesn't happen every time. Don't worry about it. You're not being possessed. You're human."

"Thanks - but, and I hate to say this, I really want to talk to you, but I think noise is making my headache worse? I really hope it's not just your voice..."

"It's not. It's noise in general. I'll go. Call me later, when you don't have a headache, okay? Bye!"

"Bye!" You hang up. 

Much as the noise hurt, you feel - empty, like you - want Jade to be here. Which is strange. You never felt like that at home. 

You clutch the phone, wishing Jade's voice would come out of it again, but knowing that it only does that if you make a _phone call_. You don't like this feeling. You feel tears leaking out of your eyes again. 

You close your eyes and hope that the tears stop. They don't, but you find that you don't really want to open them again.

It doesn't take you long to fall asleep, after that.


	2. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Roxy. Dirk’s not half as new to Earth as John is.

"Rox, ya' coming?"

"Nope."

You twist to glance at your sister, sitting with her feet on the table - while wearing shoes, no less - scrawling nigh-illegible words in her notebook. 

"Plot twist?"

"Yup. It's genius.  _I'm_ a genius. I'm the smartest genius in existence."

"Is it all a dream?"

"Nopenopenopenope. Nooooo no nononono. Definitely not. Abso-fuckin-lutely not."

"What is it, then?"

"You know how it's writen in second person?"

"Yeah?"

"The person the 'you' refers to isn't a character. It's the  _reader_."

"Shit."

"I  _know_."

"Sort of like  _The Never-Ending Story_?"

" _Nothing_ like that horror."

"Did you just call my favorite book a  _horror_?"

"Thatrevolting thing is  _not_ your favorite book,  _Black Beauty_ is, don't even try to fool me, I can't be fooled, I'm fuckin' awesome. Unfoolable."

"Well, maybe, but it's not  _revolting_."

"Yes it is. It's awful. Compared to my masterpiece it's absolute shit."

"Ok. Well, if I wait 'til you're done, will you come up with me?"

"Nah."

"Why not?"

"Don't want to."

"Please?"

"Dirk. I don' exist for the sole purpose of entertaining you and chaperoning you around Earth. I don't feel like going up. So I'm not going to."

You give up. Roxy's right. And it's not like you've never been there by yourself. You just prefer to make fun of humanity with someone at your side. "All right. But - just out of curiosity, I swear, I'm not asking you to come with me - why are you wearing your shoes?"

Roxy stops writing for the first time since you opened your mouth and glances over her notebook at her shoes. "'Cause they're super fucking cute."

You frown. They don't look very comfortable.

Then again, comfort has rarely been Roxy's aim. "See you later."

"Bye."

You head over to the front door. It's large, made entirely of oak wood, carved with images and symbols from the beginning of time. You open it, and a rush of cool air blows through. You step through, and feel yourself become more solid, human. 

Claws disappear into your fingertips, fangs shrink and become pointy human teeth, your general aura of red fades to pale skin and blonde hair. Your sister has the same complexion, as does every other demon who ascends to Earth. Down here, with no access to the sun, white skin is the norm; up in Heaven, you've heard, where they're exposed to constant light, everyone has dark skin. 

The large house in which you find yourself is shared by every demon who comes to Earth. Tastefully decorated, it consists of thirty rooms total. 

Demons enjoy coming to the surface.

Not that the heat of hell bothers you, but demons are all the same. It's nice to come up to Earth and be among people with different opinions. 

You grab a beer from the fridge. Technically, you're not supposed to drink as soon as you come up to Earth, but you decided long ago that that rule didn't apply to you.

You head into the main room. Three demons sit around a table, playing cards. Their knees are bouncing up and down. One keeps glancing out the window. They're playing war instead of poker, and it's a good thing they are, because their facial expressions are stiff, anxious - the opposite of a poker face.

"What's up? Why're you all jumpy?" You ask, draping yourself across the couch.

"You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Heaven is sending down the Heir. It's his turn to take a year on Earth."

You frown and sit up. The last time an Heir to the throne came down, she renounced her title and chose to stay on Earth - _not_ what any demon wanted. "What's his name? Where's he staying?" 

"We don't know. We have no damn idea. All we know is that he's a boy, and he'll be dark-skinned. Not a clue, past that. He could blend in anywhere."

You sigh and lean back, careful not to spill your beer. "We'll just have to keep an eye out, then. And no one comes in this house until either we know who the Heir is or until his year is up."


	3. Both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The paths of the future lovers collide.  
> John has alcohol for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it says both but this is really mostly Dirk.

**John**

You remember being shocked that Jade had stayed in her room for three days. You remember that, now that your memory has caught up with your past.

You also remember your shock when you realized you couldn't remember the numbers on the clock when you fell asleep the first night, or what you ate for breakfast that morning. 

Strange, how human memories worked. How they saved some things but not others. 

You vividly remember stubbing your toe.

You spent a week in your room, struggling with your new emotions as they hit you in waves. You had never been more grateful for anything in your life when you discovered that Heaven's Earthbound were willing to come sit with you for long periods of time every day, giving you names for emotions and different kinds of pain and teaching you how to exist as a human - a feat more difficult than you thought possible.

Finally, they had told you to leave your room, to go outside and meet humans and talk to them. They prepped you: your name is John Egbert, you're one-eighth white on the side that managed to pass down your surname, and a whole host of other nationalities that they told you you didn't have to bother memorizing, your parents are divorced and feel guilty about it, so they end up spoiling you. The house you live in is your mom's, but she's so rarely home it doesn't matter. You went to New York University and graduated with a business degree. 

You know your entire backstory. 

So you left the house, confident that you could handle it.

You couldn't.

You didn't even talk to anybody. You went to one of those places humans call  _malls_ , and were instantly overwhelmed by the sheer _number_ of humans. After you got used to that, you became overwhelmed by the way they walked - purposefully, like they would run you over if you didn't move, or the exact opposite, slowly meandering their way through the crowds in a way that guaranteed that you would run into them. 

Once you got over  _that_ horror, you found out that no one wanted to be approached by a random guy looking to strike up a conversation. 

You didn't make a single friend, and couldn't fathom how anyone else made friends either.

Today, nearly two weeks into your stay, you had left the house for a fifth time - the last three times had been to go shopping; you'd found out that you sincerely enjoyed the human treat  _brownie brittle_ \- and you found yourself in a bar. You'd been completely sure of your ability to hold human  _liquor_ ; after all, you'd been assured many times that the ambrosia you drank in Heaven was five times stronger than any Earthly alcohol. 

You were wrong.

You were on your third beer, and the world wasn't moving right anymore. 

A sound comes from your left. You turn your head, slowly, to prevent the world from spinning more than it already was. 

A man is sitting next to you. He asks for a beer. He's tall and thin, and has spiky blonde hair, pale skin, a splatter of freckles across his face. And he's wearing a pair of sunglasses, which somehow manage to be pointier than his hair.

Your drunken curiosity gets the better of you - even though you almost certainly would have asked anyway. "Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you talking to me?"

 

**Dirk**

Of course the guy was talking to you. No one else was enough of a douchebag to wear sunglasses inside. What a stupid question. "I'm wearing them because I can."

He examines you. You examine his drink. Beer. The one the bartender sets in front of you is stronger than his.

He looks drunk. He's certainly examining you the way a drunk dude would. Like he's trying very, very hard to commit you to memory, and like he can't see you very well. "What have you had to drink tonight?"

He bites his lip. "This is my third beer."

"You haven't drunk a different kind, have you?"

"I - don't think so. My memory hasn't been working very well recently. I'm not really sure."

Both of your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. He's drinking the weakest alcohol on the planet, and he's drunk? "What, are you dehydrated? Did you have  _anything_ to eat or drink today?" He's not fat, but he's definitely not skinny, either. He looks like he's been surviving on brownies for the past week. He  _looks_ healthy, all dark brown hair and dark brown skin and blue eyes. He just looks - like - like a very overprotected mama's boy, out of the house for the first time in his life, living off of the pan of brownies she made him before he left. 

He frowns again, like he's digging through his memory -  _not_ a good sign. "I - think I did?"

You roll your eyes. "I think it's time for you to go home. Do you have someone picking you up?"

"Picking me up?" He stares at you like you've reverted to your demonic body and glances towards the floor. "No, that's a chair, not a person. I think."

A laugh works its way out of your throat, involuntary though it was. You beckon the bartender over and ask him how much the guy's had to drink, and he backs up the dude's story: three weak-ass beers. You turn back to the drunk idiot next to you. "What's your name?"

He brightens, like he's happy to be asked a question he can answer. "John. John Egbert."

"Great. John, how are you getting home?"

"Home?" He frowns at you. "Oh, you mean - oh. Right. Um - driving."

"You're driving yourself home?"

"Yeah."

You take a deep breath. You are all about chaos, but you're a demon, you're not  _evil_. You enjoy anarchy and destruction just as much as the next guy, but your dad has a strict policy about only causing trouble when it makes sense. You just - try to encourage humanity's natural tendencies. It's not difficult.

But in this case - letting this moron drive home wouldn't do jack shit except cause a hell of a lot of trouble. Unless - "Have you ever gotten drunk before?"

He shakes his head once, and then grimaces in pain. "No. It's not  _fair_ ," he whines. "My  _entire family_  can hold their liquor. Why can't I?"

That settles it. He's got a family, and this was a first-time thing, a mistake. You know that most demons wouldn't give a shit - wouldn't even have bothered answering his initial question - but you spend more time up here than most demons. You've got a better understanding of how humans work. And if this kid died on his way home, shit would go down. You drain your glass in precisely seven seconds and wipe your mouth. "Where are your car keys?"

He digs them out of his pocket. "Here."

You snatch them out of his hand. "Great. I'm driving you home."

"What?" That seems to shake him out of his stupor; he doesn't look very happy about your proposal. 

"You're not fit to drive home. Let's go." You dig a fifty out of your wallet and catch the bartender's eye. "Will this cover both of us?" You ask him, indicating yourself and John Egbert. He assures you that it will. You grab John Egbert's elbow and lead him slowly outside. The cool autumn air wakes him up a little, and he looks at you like he's shocked to find you there. "Which car is yours?"

He looks around, staring down the cars like he's trying to pick a criminal out of a police lineup, and points at a fucking Challenger. "That one."

"Fuck," you curse under your breath. "I've always wanted to drive one of those." You hit the unlock button, and sure enough, the lights on the Challenger flash. "Fucking gorgeous."

You help him into the passenger seat. He looks mildly confused. You get into the driver's seat. He looks even more confused. You grin as you push the button. It's one of the nice cars, the ones where you don't even have to put a key in the ignition, the car just fucking  _senses_ the key and you can turn it on. It roars to life, and the GPS turns on. You tell it to take you home. "Is that how you get home?" You ask. This isn't a borrowed car, right? You're not going to take him to his aunt's house or some shit, right?

He stares at the screen and nods. "Yes."

"Wonderful." You ease the car out of park and glance around - there aren't any cars pulling out around you. You ease your foot off the break, and the car begins moving. You maneuver it all the way to the road without once touching the gas pedal, and then you realize that the road is empty and you become a religious demon, thanking God and your dad that you can push down on the gas pedal, which you do, and the thing  _growls_ and jumps forward, it's incredible, and you don't want to take this dude home, you want to drive around forever, and you'll be his motherfucking chauffeur if he'll let you drive this damn car every time.

"Why are you doing this?" He asks.

"Doing what?" You ask absentmindedly, performing the fastest right turn you've ever done in your life. The car stays perfectly flat. You can barely tell you turned. It's glorious.

"Driving me home. You don't even know me."

"Because you're drunk as shit, and I don't want you to get in an accident." Or, well, that was it initially. Now, you'll drive him home any time he wants, because you've finally figured out your sexuality and you are car-sexual, not even that, it's just this car, just this one masterpiece of engineering - you're literally doing 80 mph and you can't even tell, the car moves like it's not moving -

"That's really nice of you."

Oh no, you really, really hope he's not about to go on some drunken spiel about how much he loves you. "Yeah, well, gotta keep people from getting hurt as much as I can, y'know."

"No, but - really. I've only been here for about two weeks, and I haven't made a single friend, and I was so excited to meet people, and you're the first person who's even  _spoken_ to me, and you're driving me home, and that's so nice of you, God will bless you for this -"

You wince. You hope God never takes any notice of you. He certainly isn't showing any signs of paying attention; you haven't seen any indicators that anyone has a divine daddy watching over them. It's technically the reason why you're out tonight - reconnaissance. Searching for clues. Trying to find the Heir so that you can avoid him like the angel he is. "Well, maybe if I'm lucky he'll deign to not smite me."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"See, that's a problem too," he continues. "It's like,  _nothing's_ working anymore, not even my hearing. The fuck is that about?"

"Probably just you being drunk." You pull into his driveway and reluctantly turn the car off. You recognize the street name - good thing, too, because you didn't feel like walking several miles to get home. 

"No, you don't get it, it's because..."

His voice fades as you get out of the car. He remains seated, talking like you're still in the car. You really can't tell how drunk he is. Sometimes he seems like he's not too far gone - his speech isn't even slurred. But sometimes, like now, when he's rambling on and talking to no one, you're not sure. Maybe he's not drunk, he's just got a mental problem of some sort, or some form of autism. That would explain his difficulties making friends, and why he seems completely unaware of the fact that you're not paying attention to a word he says as you help him out of the car and up the front steps. You ask him for a key, but he rambles on. You try the door. It's unlocked.

You're not sure if that means there was a break-in or if he literally left his front door unlocked. 

You're not sure which would be worse. 

You find your way to his bedroom and set him down. "Don't go to sleep," you instruct, but he doesn't seem in any danger of doing that - he's still talking, ranting about his sister and how well she's doing. 

You hunt down glasses, finding them in the cabinet over the stove. You fill it with water and bring it back to John Egbert, who's lying on his back now, talking to the ceiling like he and it are old friends. "Hey. Egbert. John. Drink this."

"The whole thing?" He asks, staring at the glass of water like you're asking him to drink the entire ocean.

"The whole thing."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, your hangover will be a thousand times worse. Drink."

"Hangover?"

The kid literally has no idea what you're saying. " _Drink_ _._ "

He chugs the whole thing down without breaking for air. You have to admit, the kid can follow orders when he pays attention. "Good job. Now you can go to sleep if you want, okay?"

"I should - change into pajamas -"

"Yeah, go ahead, if you can stand," you say with a snort.

He grabs your arm and hauls himself out of bed. He's much stronger than he looks.

He starts using you like a walker, helping himself across the room to the dresser. You remove his hand from your arm and place it on the dresser. "Go ahead and get changed now, okay?" You say, practically bolting out of the room. There was  _no_ way you were going to help him get changed.

You refill his glass of water instead, listening for a thump. Is he drunk enough to fall over? Judging by the fact that he needed your help to stand up, the answer is yes. You feel mildly guilty for leaving him there alone, and return to find him in a pair of low-slung pants and, considering the amount of skin you can see, absolutely nothing else. 

You choose not to check the pile of clothing on the floor to see if he took off his underwear.

You help him back into bed. How on Earth can he possibly be this drunk and still speak clearly? His speech isn't impeded at all, not even the tiniest bit. But he can barely walk. 

"I'm leaving another glass of water on the table, okay?" You say, setting down the glass. "Drink it when you wake up. If you remember this. Maybe I'll put some painkillers there too," you mutter, more to yourself now than to him; he's half asleep already, sprawled out across his bed. You take off his glasses. He looks exhausted without them; it's like they were covering up the bags under his eyes. You can't help but wonder what the poor dude is going through, that he looks that tired. 

You find his bathroom and a medicine cabinet, and shake two Tylenol out into your hand. You return to his room to find that John Egbert is curled up around his blankets instead of under them, fast asleep. You wonder if you should stay to make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit or something but no, he wasn't puking before and you're pretty sure that's way beyond your job description, which in this case is literally "wreak havoc." So you place the pills beside the glass of water and creep out of his house, locking his door behind you.

You walk back home, appreciating the silence that has fallen in the absence of a drunk kid at your side. You wish you could drive his car again - fuck, you could probably just steal it, it's not like your dad would care, and you'd done so much for the kid that you probably deserved it. 

But for some reason, you don't go back for his car. You decide that it's because you already locked his door, with the car keys inside the house, and breaking in would be too much trouble. 

"Did you find anything?" Karkat asks when you walk inside. One of your best childhood enemies, he's sitting in the main room, reading what looks like a romance.

"Nothing."

"Gotta start looking harder," he says, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"I'm scouring the town. You know there's a really good chance he's not here, right? The world is a big place, and there's no reason why his daddy would drop him in the middle of a town full of demons."

"Unless he wanted to teach us a lesson."

You snort. "By putting his Heir in danger? I doubt it."

Karkat doesn't respond. You both know you're right, and he's never going to admit it.

You start to relax for the first time in two weeks. The Heir probably isn't here, and there's no evidence to support the idea that he is. 

You're safe.


	4. Both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and John talk - and have an actual, sober conversation!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the reverse of last chapter: it’s still both of them as narrators, but way, way more from John’s perspective.  
> Personal headcanon: Dirk isn’t really a talkative guy, and he’s kind of awkward whenever he’s forced to say long sentences, so he ends up saying “y’know” at the end of 75% of his sentences to make sure whoever he’s talking to is still interested.

**Dirk**

You have no idea what you're doing. You really don't. You have a strong feeling you're going insane. Entirely off your rocker. If your rocker was a thing, you just did a perfect, balletic pirouette off of it and then dived off a cliff to get away from it. 

This is stupid. Pointless. Childish. Very un-demonic of you.

Roxy assured you that she's made friends up here before, and just made it seem like she had a very unsupportive family that wouldn't appreciate guests. You suppose you could manage it. 

And you're not really his friend. You just want to make sure he's not dead. After the amount of work you put into keeping him alive, that's perfectly normal, right? To make sure that all your work didn't go to waste? Of course it is.

You ring the doorbell. He doesn't answer right away. You feel an irrational wave of anger sweep over you; would it kill him to answer the fucking door? But then, what if he's not answering because he's dead? 

You're seriously considering kicking the door in when you hear the lock click, and the door swings open. 

John Egbert's face appears in front of you, contorts into an expression of shock, and then he blushes. His entire face flushes, the whole thing, like he got caught masturbating. He's holding a phone to his ear, and talks to whoever's on the other line. 

"Jade - hold on one second - yeah - just - gimme a minute -" he covers the mouthpiece. "Uh, hi, you're - you're the guy who brought me home last night?" He sounds awkward, mildly confused. 

"Yeah. You're John, right? John Egbert? That is actually your name, right? You didn't accidentally give me the wrong one last night, right? You seemed kind of out of it."

He nods, mouth hanging open a little bit, and then he remembers his manners. "Yeah, come in, make yourself comfortable, I'm in the middle of a thing but I can be done in half a second -"

You enter his house. It looks a little different in the light. Last night, with most of the rooms dark, you'd assumed it was homey - pictures on the walls, decorations, some indication that someone was living in it. But there's nothing to indicate that John's anything other than a squatter - the main room looks completely un-lived in. 

He trots off into a different room to finish his conversation with his sister, and you take a seat and twiddle your thumbs until he's done.

 

**John**

You can't believe it. He came  _back_. "Yeah, he's sitting in my living room, can you believe that?" You mutter to Jade.

"No," she says, voice loud and clear despite your distence. "I don't think I trust him. Why did he come back? You're  _sure_ you didn't say anything about your angelic state last night? You probably acted really weird, too. The first time I got drunk, at least fifteen people told me I was a weird drunk. It's like - your body is angelic, even though it's human, because it's not made the same way as everyone else's. So it reacts differently to things. You have to be really, really careful, okay? Don't do drugs, don't drink too much - or at all, actually - don't even drink coffee until you're alone. You won't react like normal people.

"Now. About the kid in your living room. 

"Keep your cell phone on you at all times, okay? And if he does anything, just yell for one of the Earthbound, and they'll come. Honestly, you could probably get Dad to go down and help you if you need it, okay? Be careful, John. I don't like that kid. Even if he  _did_ help you."

"All right, all right, I will," you promise, mind wandering. "I gotta go now, okay?"

"All right. Bye, John. I love you. Call me if you need any help."

"Bye, Jade. Love you too." You hang up and return to the living room, suddenly intensely grateful that you bothered to get dressed this morning. "So, uh, do you want anything?" You ask the blonde boy. "To drink? Or eat?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good."

"Cool." You're not a good chef anyway. 

You sit down across from him. "What's your name?"

"Dirk Strider."

"Dirk Strider. Thanks for bringing me home last night. It was - my first time drinking, see, and I guess I didn't know my limits - I probably talked a lot -" you laugh nervously. 

He nods. "Yeah, you're a really talkative drunk."

Oh, no. "Did I say anything interesting?" You ask casually. You did, you did spill your guts, didn't you. Idiot that you are, you managed to get drunk and talk about your dad and your family to the first guy who helped you out, didn't you.

He shrugs, red creeping into his cheeks. "I'm not sure. I wasn't really paying attention. I know you were talking about your sister at one point, and you talked about how annoying it was that you can't hold your liquor as well as your family does. And I got the impression that you're new here? That's really all I got out of it, though."

You didn't say anything incriminating. Or at least, no one heard you say anything incriminating. You feel a strange wave of relief wash over you - would it really matter if one guy heard you say some weird stuff while you were drunk? Probably not. "Oh. Well, yeah, I'm new here. How long have you lived here?" You're having an actual conversation with someone other than an Earthbound! This is the most exciting thing that's happened to you since you got here!

"Pretty much my entire life, really. I used to live with my parents, but they decided to move away, so I'm staying with a bunch of friends. I try to stay out of the house as much as possible, y'know? I don't want to bother them too much."

"Are they mean?"

He shakes his head violently, almost disturbing his sunglasses, which he's still wearing. You can't believe you're just noticing this now. Maybe it's because you're not quite sure what humans normally wear? You're pretty sure no one wears sunglasses inside, though. "No, they're not mean. Not really. They can be a little sarcastic, but they're not really mean. I just - don't want to be in the way, y'know?"

"I guess."

"So why did you move here?"

You can't believe it. He honestly sounds interested. "Well, I didn't really. This is technically my mom's house, but her job made her move out to England for the year, so I'm staying here to keep it clean so that she doesn't have to come back to a dark, dusty house."

"That's really nice of her. Are you getting a job while you're here?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I don't actually have to, but I figure I should do something. I don't really want to sit around here all day, doing nothing." You physically restrain yourself from adding a "y'know" to the end of your sentence.

"What do you like doing? If you don't really have to get a job, you've got more freedom. You could do something you like, even if it doesn't pay well, y'know?"

You nod. He has a point. "I don't really know, to be honest. What I like. What's worth doing for a year."

"You don't  _know_?" He asks incredulously. His eyebrows shoot up above his pointy sunglasses. "How do you not know what you like to do?"

"I don't know, I just... don't know. I mean, do fun jobs even exist? I barely know what my hobbies are. I know I can't sit still to save my life, and I'm bad at listening. What kind of job can I get that fits in with  _that_?"

He stares at you, then chuckles. "Dude, you're friggin weird."

"You're the one who's wearing your sunglasses inside," you point out.

He fingers the tip of the right triangle. "Dude, shades are cool, okay. And I'm not the one who doesn't know what I like."

You open your mouth to respond, but you really don't know what to say. Are sunglasses -  _shades_ \- cool? You have no idea. "Fine."

He sighs. "I suppose you should go with something physical. I don't know - have you ever played sports before?" He pauses for a second, and you wonder if he's glancing at your body - too pudgy to be an athlete's body. "If you haven't, I don't think there's any way you could get a job doing physical stuff."

You shake your head. "Never. Have you ever played sports?"

He snorts. "Nope. Didn't feel like being that involved with anything."

You press him, and find out that he did well in school and breezed through college, but never had any _school spirit_  - you remind yourself to look that up when you have a chance. He never cared about sports. Mostly, he just screws around with things called _katanas_. Apparently, he and his sister like to  _strife_ , fighting with katanas without actually hurting each other. You ask if he'll teach you, and manage to wrangle a promise out of him to bring a couple katanas over tomorrow to teach you how to fight. You get him to smile when you tell him about your childhood antics, trying to prank your sister and your dad. You tell him about the time you spilled an entire bucket of water on your sister's head and he actually laughs, not just a chuckle but an actual  _laugh._ He doesn't seem to be used to it, practically choking on his laughter. You remember what he said about his friends being sarcastic but not mean, and wonder if they're meaner than he realizes. You guess he doesn't laugh much while he's there. 

When he leaves, it's with a promise to return tomorrow for a strifing session. 

You google  _school spirit_.

You have no idea what it has to do with playing sports.

You wonder if he laughed a lot when he was in school. 

You wonder where he went to school. 

You wonder if he wore his sungla - _shades_ in school.

You wonder about him until it gets dark and your drained human body insists that you go to bed.


	5. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John sucks at paying attention and Dirk doesn’t realize that John has an army on call for if he feels threatened.

True to your word, you're back in front of Egbert's house the next day at three in the afternoon, with two katanas strapped to your back. He opens the door almost instantly, like he was waiting for you.

He chose to wear sweatpants instead of jeans today, presumably for ease of movement. Your mouth quirks up into a smirk. He thinks he's going to be doing something other than getting his ass beaten today. How adorable. "Are there any open spaces around?"

"Um - the backyard, if you're looking for something outside -"

"I am." You silently thank his mother for picking out a house with a backyard.

You tramp through his house. "Where on Earth is the back door?"

John taps your shoulder. "I live on a hill. I have a walk-out basement. There's no back door on this floor."

"You have a basement?"

"Yeah."

He leads you to a door in the kitchen. He opens it, and you see a staircase. "I thought this was a closet."

"Nope. Basement."

You follow him down the stairs to a very nicely furnished basement. "Why didn't you just get a back door upstairs, and build stairs down to the ground?"

He stops short, and you nearly run into him. He turns and stares at you. "That's an incredible idea!"

"No, it's really not. That's what most people do. So that they can get out without having to go down their basement."

"That's genius," he says absentmindedly as he slides open the door. 

"Was that door unlocked?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Were you down here earlier?"

"No, why?"

You roll your eyes. "Do you  _ever_ lock  _any_ of your doors?"

"No. Why?"

You sigh. "People can break in really, really easily if your doors are unlocked."

"Why would they break in?" He asks, looking at you with wide blue eyes. 

You stare at him, well aware of the fact that your mouth is hanging open. "To steal things?" You enunciate each word clearly, just to make sure he's listening. 

He looks confused, but he blinks and the confusion is gone. "Well. Yeah."

You raise your eyebrows, waiting for more, but he's apparently done with that sentence. 

He turns to face you, a big buck-toothed grin spreading across his face. "Well? Are you going to teach me?"

You remove both katanas from your back and show him how to hold it, how a katana is thin and easily breakable, how it's meant for slashing, not stabbing, how it's nothing like a broadsword. You know you're getting way too into this - your love of katanas and sharp objects is showing - but it doesn't really matter. 

And then you realize he's barely paying attention. "John?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you paying attention?"

"Of course!" He says indignantly. 

You frown and cross your arms, katana dangling from your hand. "Repeat what I just told you."

"Um... a... katana is used..."

"Wrong, I started talking about different defensive stances."

He flushes. "Oh."

You spring at him, and bam, your katana is at his throat and he's at your mercy. You could chop his head off in half a second. 

There's real fear in his eyes. 

You feel mildly guilty for scaring him, but the edge is taken off by the fact that he wasn't paying attention at all. 

You back off. "Shall we start again?"

He nods slowly, like he's not quite sure. 

You sigh. "I won't ever actually hurt you. You know that, right?"

He nods again, but he relaxes a little as you say it.

"Good. Now pay attention, so next time I do that you can block me."

He pays more attention this time around, and by the end of an hour he's managed to block you twice. Your ministrifes mostly consist of you jumping at him, and him scrambling and failing to get his katana up in time. He's sweating like it's more than fifty degrees outside, and your heart rate hasn't even increased. 

You head inside; Egbert is hungry. 

"How are you not sweating?" he asks.

"It's fifty degrees out!"

"So?"

"So, fifty degrees is cold, by my standards." The fires of hell keep your home a comfy hundred-and-thirty degrees at all times. While your human body isn't as well equipped to handle those tempteratures as your demonic body is, your human body is made with vestiges of your demonic body - which makes perfect sense; it's not like your human body was made the way normal humans are made - and you're still much more accustomed to the heat.

"Does it get really hot here in the summer?"

"Kind of. It goes up to eighty, sometimes ninety degrees."

He frowns at you, eyebrows creasing together as he puts rice on the stove. "Kind of? If that's as hot as it gets, and you've lived here all your life, shouldn't you be accustomed to these temperatures?"

Shit. "Well, y'know, my - friends that I'm living with, they keep the temperature turned way up in the fall and winter, and there's something about their house that just - traps heat, y'know?" You can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. You stumbled over every single word in that sentence. 

"Oh." For once, he doesn't seem confused. He's a weird kid.

"Yeah."

You can feel it - an awkward silence is coming on. This is a new friendship. If it's plagued by awkward silences, it will be murdered. You search around for something to say, but no need - Egbert is a walking Awkward Silence Destroyer. 

"I don't think katanas are really my thing."

"No, I don't either," you agree. "But when you did manage to do things right, you looked really graceful, y'know? Kinda reminded me of a dancer. Have you ever tried dancing?"

He looks intrigued. "No."

"I'm pretty sure there's a dance studio a few blocks away. They probably only just started up. You could see if you could get into one of their beginner classes or something. They probably have adult classes you could take."

He bites his lip as he considers. "I should."

"If you're going to, you should register as soon as you can - you don't want to start classes too late."

"Should I register now?"

You shrug. "Why not?"

You help him find the website. They've got a class, Thursday nights, for adults between the ages of twenty and thirty. Ballet. John bounces over to the rice when it's done, and hums while he eats. You can't help but smile.

He's fucking adorable.

You've never used that word in your life.

Roxy does, but you're pretty sure she uses it ironically. You used to use  _cute_ the same way. But John Egbert is unironically adorable. 

The two of you sit in his kitchen until the sun begins to set, and he insists that you leave so you don't have to walk home in the dark.

If a demon did that, it would be because they were kicking you out.

John makes you promise to come back. 

Humans are strange.

You promise to return.

You are quickly becoming strange.


	6. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancers move like angels. If you don’t believe me, go watch some videos.

You were told that, since this is an adult class, uniform doesn't matter. So you put on sweatpants and a t-shirt and hope that's all right. 

The class has sixteen people in it, not counting yourself, and most of them are around your age, twenty-four and twenty-five. Not a single one of them has ever taken a class before, and all are wearing clothes similar to yours. You silently congratulate yourself on your choice of clothing. You can't wait to tell Dirk.

Actually, he would have no idea why you were so excited. 

You can't wait to tell Jade. 

You spend the entire class going through the five positions. 

First position: heels touch. Toes point outwards. Arms rounded, fingers almost touching, held just a couple inches away from the thighs.

Second position: heels sit directly underneath the hips, toes pointed outwards. Arms held out to the sides, almost straight but not quite.

Third position: heel of one foot touches the middle of the other, toes pointed outwards. Arms rounded. Your teacher says to pretend you're holding a  _beach ball_. You're not quite sure what that is, but you imitate everyone else and get it correct anyway.

Fourth position: the same general foot placement as third position, except that one foot is several inches in front of the other. One arm is rounded above the head, the other rounded a little below the chest.

Fifth position: heel of one foot touches the toes of the other, the goal being to have your feet flat up against each other. Arms rounded above the head.

You've never been so intrigued by anything in your life.

You've never seen anything as graceful as your teacher when she poses, providing a reference for you. She wanders around the room, pushing shoulders down and pulling them back, lifting chins, pushing in stomachs, telling every one to squeeze their butt and tuck it under. Her favorite phrase is "Turn out from your hips, not your knees or ankles." You discover that this is possible only if you squeeze your butt. 

You discover muscles you didn't even know you had.

For instance, there's a tiny little muscle just behind your armpit that you have to engage whenever you hold your arms in second position. If you're not engaging it, you're not holding your arms right. 

You have back muscles, which you never actually noticed.

There are muscles on the tops of your thighs.

When you leave, everyone around you says that their muscles are going to be killing them tomorrow. One man comments that he knew he'd signed up for ballet, but he didn't know he was signing up for a workout every week and a test of his strength. One woman - you know her name; Aradia - comments cheerfully that ballet is a pain in the ass, literally, and that since this was just the first week, everything from here on out will be more difficult.

You're very excited by this prospect. 

You wake up cheerfully the next morning, intent on practicing the five positions all day long. 

You stand up.

You collapse to the ground.

You vaguely remember stubbing your toe, a few weeks ago. You had thought that was painful.

 _This_ was painful.

Your thighs are jelly, your calves in the same state, and you really don't think they'll hold you up. 

You try crawling to the door, but your arms really aren't up for that task. Holding them up for an hour yesterday was probably too strenuous an activity. 

You lie facedown on your floor, slowly working through your options. You could probably call one of the Earthbound, but you're beginning to feel guilty about calling for them every time you need something - they might be here to help you, but they're not your personal slaves. You could call Jade and ask for her advice, but you probably shouldn't call her every twenty minutes either - you know she said to call her if you needed anything, but you seem to need something every five seconds, your human body crying out for help near-constantly. 

You could call Dirk.

You're not going to call Dirk. 

Your doorbell rings. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You don't have a choice anymore.

With shaking arms, you heave yourself into a standing position. Your shaking, cramping legs screech at you to get back down on the floor, what are you doing, this is too much work. Your bladder puts up a different protest, yelling that you haven't peed since last night and human bodies have a strange tendency to urinate every few hours and ten hours of sleep is way more than you can handle. Your stomach growls at you. 

The fact that you make it to your door at all, beset by so many different kinds of pain, is a miracle.

You open the door. 

Dirk's mouth is pinched in a tight line, but he sees you and it relaxes. Instead, one of his eyebrows quirk upwards. "Did I wake you up, Sleeping Beauty?" he asks. 

You realize that you're still in your pajama pants. You feel your hair - your arm protesting the entire time - and feel that it's a wreck. You shake your head. "No, I've been lying on the floor for a little while."

"Why were you...?"

"I had my first ballet class last night."

"And...?"

"And I can't move."

"Is that why you're not letting me in?"

"I think if I move my legs I might collapse."

Dirk sighs. He wraps an arm around your ribcage and pulls you inside. "Where to, oh prince?" He chuckles, like he said something funny.

"Why're you laughing?" you ask.

"Nothing, don't worry about it. Just - a bunch of my friends call me prince. Where am I taking you?"

"I need to use the toilet."

He laughs. "Bathroom it is. But you're on your own once you're in there."

"Barely ever laughs - finds out I'm in pain and can't move - starts laughing hysterically," you mutter darkly. 

He hasn't actually stopped chuckling, so it's not like he starts up when he hears you - he just laughs harder. "When you're done in there, grab a couple Tylonol. It'll help. Have you eaten breakfast?"

"No."

"I'll make some."

You close the door and hear him stride into the kitchen. You consider pranking him, but you're really not sure how you can, considering you can barely move, and also he's cracking eggs against the counter and that means you get eggs for breakfast and how could you ever be mean to someone who's making you eggs? You can't, of course.

So you wash your hands and shake two Tylonol into your hand. Dirk gave you two the other night, didn't he? You're pretty sure that's what you gulped down that morning.

You're glad to see that the bottle says you should swallow the pills. You had tried biting into it first, but it tasted gross, so you swallowed it instead.

You steady yourself with one hand as you walk gingerly towards the kitchen, careful not to put too much weight on any one limb. Is this the fault of your angelic composition, or do all human bodies react this way to exercise? _Please, please don't tell me this is gonna happen every time I exercise_ , you mutter under your breath.

"Hmm?" Dirk asks.

"Nothing. What are you cooking?"

"Omelette with cheese."

"Yum."

"What do you want to drink?"

You shrug. "Water, I guess."

He shifts around the still-liquid egg and sets the fork to the side. He fills a glass with water and brings it to you.

"Thanks."

"No problem." He laughs quietly. "Am I going to have to take care of you after every class?"

You groan. "I hope not."

"What, not enjoying my five-star care?" He asks, leaning in close with a smirk on his face.

You can almost see through his shades.

You can almost see his eyes.

You forget to swallow.

He returns to the frying pan to flip the omelette.

You find yourself mesmerized by the flip of his wrist, the sharp movement of his pale hand.

What just happened?

You decide to ignore it. 

He brings you the omelette. You mutter a thanks and eat as quickly as possible.

"So. Did you enjoy the class? Aside from the obvious strain it put on your muscles?" He asks. If a smirk could be heard, it would be ringing loud and clear in his voice. How long has it been since he had to put any strain on his muscles? He was so calm and composed the other day, when he was lunging at you and around you, running circles around you only to tap your throat or your side with the blade of his katana, indicating that he could have killed you if it wasn't for his own personal inhibitions. He hadn't even broken a sweat, and you'd been breathing like you'd been underwater for five minutes. 

"It was fun," You say absentmindedly. 

"Just fun?"

You think back to the class, to the grace with which your teacher moved, how even when she was still she reminded you of water - still, but able to flow in any direction with any amount of force without a moment's notice. "It was awesome."

You describe the five positions for him, tell him about the people in your class and their varying levels of success, and your new goal: to dance like your teacher.

"Wait, wait, wait," he interrupts. "Are you telling me you  _actually paid attention_?" He asks incredulously.

You try to whack him.

He laughs as he jumps off the chair and dances out of reach.

You glower at him. "Not fair. You know I can't walk."

"The world ain't fair, kid," he drawls. 

"Where is that accent from?" You ask curiously. He's never spoken like that before.

"Huh? Oh. Y'know. When I was little I used to go down to Texas for a couple weeks every summer. We - have family down there. I picked up the accent pretty quickly, y'know?"

You have no idea where Texas is. You nod anyway. "Yeah. That makes sense." It doesn't. 

He lets you finish your monologue on the beauty of dance in peace, and then asks you if you've ever looked up dancers on YouTube.

You have absolutely no idea what YouTube is. "No."

"Ha. Well. Where's your computer?"

YouTube is a website of videos, you discover.

Dirk types "dancers" in the top bar. 

You had no idea dancers were so beautiful.

You stay up long after Dirk leaves, watching them twirl and leap and stutter around on their toes in tiny broken steps that flow together into one long, seamless movement that carries them across the stage.

They move like angels.

You want to spend your year dancing.


	7. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s some of this story’s mythology/cosmology.

John doesn't even walk you to the door. He's engrossed in his videos.

You've never seen the appeal of dance before: it's all work and you don't win anything. But somehow, you can see it now: the grace, the beauty, the flow of movement - it reminds you of a good strife, minus the katanas.

Of course your new viewpoint has nothing to do with John. You were entirely unaffected by the way his jaw dropped when he watched that guy do pirouettes. You didn't even notice the stupid bucktoothed smile that spread across his face when he saw that girl leap across the stage like she was flying. And you definitely didn't see the way his fucking eyes lit up when he saw that clip of  _Swan Lake_. 

Nope. Not at all.

You make your way home, ignoring Karkat's questioning - "Why are you up here so often? Why isn't Roxy coming with you? Where are you going?" - and return to Hell.

"Where were you?" Roxy asks, seeing you come in out of the corner of her eye.

"On Earth."

"No shit. Doing what?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You're up there every day, for hours."

"Still none of your business."

"What are you doing up there?"

You sigh loudly and spread your arms. "I'm so sorry I can't provide you with a play-by-play account of my day, but it would take a year and a fucking half."

Roxy sits up and leans forward. "Did you meet someone?" She sings.

"No."

"Don't lie to me. Dirky met someone. Is it a boy? Girl? Other? What pronouns do they use? Please tell me it's a boy so I can call him your boytoy. Dirky, do you have a boytoy?"

"Roxy, I swear on my life I'm going to slap you down to the next level of Hell."

"You did. Am I right? Are they a boy? Or not? What should I call them? Boytoy? Girl... girl... girlwhirl? No, doesn't have the same ring. Girltwirl? Girlhurl? No, that sounds like she makes you puke..."

"Boy, okay? Shut up."

Somehow, she gets more excited with your affirmation. She shrieks. "What's his name? Shit, I can call him your boytoy. _Wonderful_."

"Roxy."

"Hmm?" She asks, through the biggest grin you've ever seen.

"I'm going to rip off your leg and feed it to you."

She holds out her leg. "Will you? That would be the best meal I've had in days." 

You roll your eyes. "I'm going for a walk."

She screams. "Don't you dare! You still haven't told me his name! I'm gonna call him something stupid if you don't tell me. Like - like - bucktoothed beaver!"

You grin. "Honestly, that's perfect."

Her shrieks echo behind her as you walk down the cavernous tunnels that lead away from your home.

Sometimes, when you've been up on Earth too long, you like to come down here. The human idea of Hell leaves much to be desired.

People seem to forget your father's reason for rebelling. 

He didn't want to bow to the humans. They were - and still are, for the most part - weak, stupid, cruel. Angels were perfect, strong, intelligent - everything humans weren't. And God wanted the angels to bow down to the humans. Lucifer fought back, and was thrown from Heaven for it. 

The humans got that much right. 

Everything else is bullshit.

They forget that Lucifer was and is an angel, if without God's blessing. He is still inherently good, he just suffers from anger. And he certainly isn't trapped in Hell: he created it when he fell, and God assumed that Lucifer would rather remain there than mingle with the humans. But he forgot that the only way Lucifer could see the sun was to walk amongst the humans. So he did, unhindered by God, who never imagined that Lucifer would interact with the humans.

But again, Lucifer was an angel, inherently disposed to help. And while helping the humans went against Lucifer's sense of pride - how would it look if he fought a war against the existence of humanity, and then turned around and helped them? - he could certainly punish the bad ones, and make sure that they got what they deserved for daring to be higher in God's favor and ignoring it. 

Just as God had children, and a throne that he left for his eldest child so he didn't have to handle the day to day business, Lucifer had children and left the daily rigors of corrupting humans to his children - mostly to Roxy, his eldest child. She does the job beautifully, even better than Lucifer had; she knew that in order to work subtly, to go unnoticed in a world full of people taught not to trust strangers, demons would have to understand humanity and be able to counterfeit it. Genius that she is, she found a way to transmute demonic bodies into humanoid bodies, allowing you to walk the surface unnoticed - except for your eyes, anyway. 

There were certain minor problems with the process she used, however. For one thing, all demons were pale-skinned, and all of you had strange eyes: the humanoid bodies incorporated elements of Hell, with its insistent heat and lack of sunlight. It took some time for the humanoid bodies to settle after arriving on Earth, meaning that alcohol could only be drunk after a certain amount of time had passed, and drugs were impossible. The bodies started deteriorating after a few days.

Of course, as soon as Roxy had implemented her new technology, Heaven took it and altered it, and Roxy didn't have God's power - there was no way she could replicate what he did. He halted the deterioration entirely, allowing angels to remain on Earth indefinitely. He made the bodies even more humanoid, allowing them to drink and do drugs, which, of course, was entirely wasted on angels, who didn't give a shit about anything fun. Instead of just buying a house, he bought several, and sent volunteer angels down to Earth permanently, allowing him to send his children down and keep them protected and provided for. They had integrated so seamlessly into human civilization that you couldn't tell them apart from humans anymore, unless you pried into their background until they broke, which invariably got a demon transported directly to Hell with a divine headache that lasted months. 

You wander past torture scenes straight out of Dante, reflecting silently on the unconscionable crimes committed by each soul: rape, murder, torture, and varying levels of all of each. Of course, the punishment always fit the crime: Lucifer was an angel, and all he did was just. 

It is almost a relief to be down here, where souls are bared and you didn't have to wonder whether or not someone liked you or if you had any chance at all with them.

You know for a fact that everyone down here hates you.

It was nice. They didn't want you to smile or laugh. They wanted a person to hate, a person to detest with every fiber of their being, and you looked the part: red-eyed, pink-skinned, claws that sunk into dirt and clacked against stone, a tail that dragged against the floor, humanoid enough to be recognizable as something other than an animal and inhuman enough to be terrifying.

Roxy, somehow, wasn't scary enough to do this. She sometimes wondered if it was because she was female; you were pretty sure it was because she wore shoes. There was no reason for it, but she said it kept her claws from ripping. She also said shoes were the best part of human culture, and that everyone should have shoes, but you generally chose to ignore her implied order to wear shoes.

You were the Prince, not the Queen.

No other Queen or King before her was allowed to wear clothing or shoes. But her childhood antics had earned her the nickname "Rogue," and whenever Lucifer brought it up she said she had to maintain her reputation. 

It takes you several hours to reach the bottom of the spiral, where the worst of the worst are housed.

You stare at them. Something is unsettling.

Ah. That's it.

One of them has John's blue eyes.

You turn and leave.

You walk all the way back upstairs, chosing not to look at anyone on your way up.

Something is severely wrong with you.

 


	8. John

You can't believe how fast the time has passed.

You've been on Earth for three months already, and time is flying by. You no longer lose the use of your legs after a dance class, although you do still get sore. You actually learned how to cook, and cooked an entire turkey on Thanksgiving. Dirk ate with you, and brought his sister - visiting for the holiday - with him. Roxy was very loud, cursed frequently, called Dirk "Dirky," and flatly refused to take off her shoes, but she was very nice. 

You've made friends with people in your dance class: Kanaya, Aradia, and Eridan, who flatly refuses to admit that he likes dance but is one of the best people in your class. He can be snobby, but you know he doesn't mean it. Kanaya doesn't like him, though, so you hang out with them separately.

You've stopped making stupid mistakes, and you know lots of things about a lot of things. 

And you've noticed things about Dirk. Strange things.

When you watch movies with him - you've discovered that human movies are made of magic - you notice the heat of his body and its proximity to yours.

You have an overwhelming urge to see his eyes, to know what they look like, to know what you caught a glimpse of all those weeks ago when he leaned in close.

That's another thing. You've noticed that the closer he is to you, the happier you are. You don't know why.

You notice how, when he laughs while eating, he covers his mouth and turns away from the table.

You notice when he's not laughing as much, and you find that you don't like it. You want him to laugh, you want him to smile, and you want to be the one to make him laugh and smile.

You notice the way his body shakes when he laughs so hard it's silent. 

You had to stop yourself from leaning in and - 

You're not sure.

You think you want to do that thing that humans call  _kissing_.

You started watching people around you when you left the house. When two of them looked as happy together as you are when you're with Dirk, they hold hands (You have to be honest with yourself: after that, you started looking at Dirk's hands, his long fingers, the lines on his palms and the veins that trace over the backs of his hands). Sometimes, one of them would  _kiss_ the other, sometimes impulsively, sometimes not, sometimes on the cheek or forehead or nose, sometimes on the lips. Lip kissing seems to be different; it takes longer (You will not lie to yourself: once you realized that lip kissing was iimportant to humans, you found yourself glancing at Dirk's lips, at the way he pinches them when he's angry, licks them when they're chapped, bites them when he's trying to find the proper word). 

Looking up  _kissing_ lead you to an entirely new and strange idea: the  _sex_. 

You're not entirely sure what it is, but it seems to involve skin touching skin and lots of lip kisses and sometimes kisses on other parts of the body, and something called _orgasm_ , and you're not sure what that is either but then you started  _looking_ at Dirk, at where his skin disappears into his shirt, and how when he stretches his arms above his head you can see his stomach and where it disappears into his pants, and you don't want it to disappear, you want to see it, you want to see it all, and whenever you think that, your genitals do something that Google assures you is completely normal. 

There're only two problems.

First of all, most of the things you see about the sex involve a penis and a vagina, or a man and a woman. You know Dirk is a man, and you're pretty sure he has male genitals, but you're not actually sure. Most of what you've seen says that a man has male genitals and a female has female genitals, but you're not entirely sure of the veracity of that fact, because in Heaven they told you that sometimes people look like one gender or decide that they're one gender even though they were born as the opposite gender, and that there are people who aren't men or women and they have genitals anyway. So, if Dirk is a man, what genitals does he have? And if they're male genitals, can you still do the sex?

You google it. Google tells you two things: that it is definitely possible, but that you need  _lube_ and  _condoms_ ; and also, that it's just called  _sex_. You are very grateful to Google for its help, because you don't know if your sister would help; she's been telling you more and more often to solve your own problems.

The second problem, which there's really no way around, is: does Dirk like you the way you like him? 

You Google that. 

Google gives you a test to take. It gives you mixed results. You've met his family, but you've never been to his house. He talks to you a lot and hangs out with you a lot, but you don't know if he makes eye contact with you because you've never seen his eyes.

You choose to ignore the test.

You go shopping.

The man behind the counter winks at you and wishes you good luck as he bags the bottle of lube and box of condoms.

Dirk is standing on your doorstep when you get back home. He grins when you get out of the car.

"I could hear that car coming from a mile away."

His Texan accent slips through a bit, transforming his words to "ah maale aawaay."

You grin back, happy to see him smiling even if you weren't really the cause of it. "It is really loud, isn't it."

He nods. "And it's awesome."

You do your best to hide the bag, holding it close to your body and away from him. Was it rude of you to prepare for sex without knowing if Dirk even liked you? Or if he even  _wanted_ to have sex?

But Dirk moves as fast as an angel and he's holding the bag before you've realized what happened. "What did you buy - is that lube?" He pulls out the bottle and then peers at the box inside. "And condoms." His voice goes flat. He drops the bottle back in the bag as he follows you inside. "Are you sleeping with someone?" he asks, his voice still as flat as a tabletop.

You frown. "No, I've been sleeping by myself since I -"

"John, don't play stupid. Are you having sex with someone?"

You pause as you process his words.  _Sleeping_ with someone is, apparently, equivalent to having sex with someone.

Dirk misinterprets your pause. "Sorry. That sounded rude. You don't have to tell me. I was just curious."

He's definitely not looking at you now, shades pointed downwards as he examines his hands. 

You shake your head before realizing that he can't see that. "No. I'm not having sex with anyone."

He nods casually, but you can see a muscle twitching in his jaw. "But you like someone, I guess? No real point in buying condoms and lube if you don't like anyone. Wait. Lemme guess. Aradia? Who's that other girl in your dance class? Her name starts with a K?"

"No - well - yes - but -  _Dirk_ -"

He's rambling, talking about how pretty Aradia is and how he's not surprised you like her and does she like you back, are you sure, and he's saying weird things like "I guess you'll be hanging out with her more often, so there's really no point in me walking up here all the time" and nothing you say is shutting him up. He won't even look at you. He's picking furiously at a hangnail.

You take a deep breath. If he won't listen to you, you'll have to do something else to catch his attention. 

You grab his face and kiss him on the lips. 

You have no idea what you're doing. 

He's stiff as a corpse.

At least he shut up.

You lean your forehead against his, forced by his shades and your glasses to hold your head at a strange angle. "No, you idiot," you whisper. You're not sure how you're making noise. You want very badly to run away. You really, really, have no idea what you're doing and does Dirk even like you? "I like  _you_."


	9. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut smut smut. Nothing but smut. If you're not into smut you can probably pick up next chapter and not miss any plot. If you're into smut, have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter I've written yet. I'm not even fucking surprised.

For reasons unknown, the first thought that goes through your head is:  _he's never kissed anyone before, has he_.

You're not shocked by that.

You've known for weeks that John Egbert has led the most sheltered life in all of human history. In fact, the thought crossed your mind once or twice that he  _was_ the Heir, but no - he got drunk and probably would have died without your interference, and he's been consorting with the Prince of Hell for weeks and there's been no Divine intervention, and they  _know_ who you are. So you came to the conclusion that John was just the most sheltered human being on the planet.

You're shocked, though. You are. 

You didn't expect any of this from him. It's not his style. John is a naive little fucker who's only just found out that he likes pranking people and being a little shit. 

He already bought lube and condoms. He kissed you. Nothing about that is naive.

This really isn't how you pictured things going. 

You've been silent for too long. John looks worried. He moves away from you. 

"Dirk? I - I'm sorry, I just - you wouldn't shut up for long enough for me to tell you and - I don't know - I -"

You reach out and cover his mouth. "John. Shh."

His mouth is open against your palm. You can feel his hot breath against your hand. He's wide-eyed, staring at you. 

"It's ok." You can feel a laugh bubbling out of your chest.  _Bubbling_. That's not usually a word you'd use for your own laughter - that's Roxy's laugh, not yours. Never yours. 

Well, it's not really yours. It's John's. You only laugh like this when you're with John.

You laugh. You laugh his laugh.

You feel his mouth form a grin against your hand. 

You slide your hand around to the back of his neck and pull his face to yours. You take control of this kiss, showing him how it's done: nibbling on his bottom lip, nudging his tongue with yours, exploring his mouth and allowing him to do the same. He learns quickly, grazing his tongue tentatively over the back of your teeth. You make the calculated decision to move on - and by "calculated," you mean his skin is smooth under your hand, and you want your mouth on it - and you pull away, ignoring his protests, planting kisses down his smooth dark throat. His protests die away into a sigh. You begin licking, sucking, tasting him, tasting his soap and the cold winter air that hasn't yet left his skin, trying not to leave marks and knowing that you're failing. You work your way down to his collarbone, tasting everything and longing to work your way down to the skin that wasn't open to the air, the skin that tastes like him without the sharp bite of the cold, the warm places that send chills up his body. You push him back so that he's lying down on the couch, grateful beyond measure that he's wearing a button-down shirt and you don't have to pull it over his head. You pop it open, button by button, and he gasps as the air hits his skin. You kiss your way down his stomach, tracing with your lips the muscles hidden under a layer of fat. You move up to suck on one of his nipples, and he moans and shivers. 

"D-Dirk -" 

You smile against his skin, grazing your teeth over his chest as you search for sensitive spots. You try the usual places - ribs, sides, hips - but it turns out that the most sensitive spot is just under his belly button. He arches his back, shudders, cries out your name. His hands frantically grab your hair, for lack of a better place to hold. 

"Under your belly button?" You mutter. "How is that even a place that can be sensitive?"

He doesn't bother answering. You're not quite sure he can. His breath shivers through his lungs, and you don't think he can find the air to respond.

It hits you that he's probably cold.

If you weren't still wearing all your clothes, you'd be cold too.

You haul yourself on top of him, warming him with your own body as you devour his mouth. You can feel his chest inflating and deflating against you, his hips grinding lightly into yours, erection half-formed in the confines of his pants. 

This isn't going to work.

It's too fucking cold.

"Do you ever turn the heat on?" you ask.

"I have the heat on when you're here, but when you leave, I turn it off and just wear a sweatshirt."

"Well, I'm here," you point out. 

"Later than usual." He's right - it's already dark out.

"You said you were busy today!" You're right - he texted you this morning not to come until later, and it's a good thing you had come as late as you did, or you'd have been standing out there in the cold.

"I was!" 

"It's not my fault!" You can feel John's erection wilting.

"I didn't get a chance to turn the heat on!"

You can't argue against that. You had walked through the door and started chastising him, like it was any of your business whom he had sex with - but you had seen the lube and the condoms and jumped to conclusions, and whatever the fuck you had that mimicked a heart broke into tiny shards and stabbed you. 

His kiss had saved you, healed that thing you called a heart and the wounds it made when it stabbed you.

You kiss him, gently. He responds, tentatively. "Well, we can't do this here, it's colder than the South Pole. May I suggest moving to the bed?"

He huffs. " _Please_."

You grab the bag with the condoms and roll off of him. He tries to stand, but you scoop him up, cradling him in your arms. He laughs, and it's the first really happy laugh you've heard from him for the past week and a half. 

He had flatly refused to tell you what was bothering him. 

Apparently, it was fear that you didn't like him. 

You grin.

He grabs you and kisses you.

You wouldn't object, except that you can't see, and John isn't exactly a lightweight. He's getting heavier with every second that passes, and you don't want to walk while he's blocking your vision; you'll walk him straight into a wall. So you pull away. He huffs in displeasure. "I'm gonna walk you into a wall if you kiss me while we're walking," you say. "So unless you're ok with that -"

He kisses you again.

You pull away. "You little shit."

He laughs. When you reach the door, he kicks it open with his foot. He flicks the light switch on as you enter the room, which is a thousand times warmer - the door's been shut since the last time the heat was on, and it's clearly got awesome fucking insulation. 

You drop the bag on the floor and dump him on the bed, taking a moment to pull your shirt over your head. You'll be honest, you're not sure what underwear you're wearing; your human body comes complete with clothing, and you haven't yet had a reason to check. You really hope it's not something embarrassing. 

It doesn't matter, in the end; you don't get a chance to take off your pants. John pulls you down on top of him, frantic to improve his kissing skills now that he knows he's got them. 

Your tongue is sliding against his when his hand leaves your hair - and then you're blinking in the light as he pulls off your shades. You stare at him in shock. He stares at you in shock. 

You can't believe he moved quickly enough to pull off your shades.

You'd have stopped and bought colored contacts or some shit if you knew he'd be seeing your abnormal orange eyes today. 

A second passes. And then another. 

He's still staring at your eyes. 

Your body on top of his is beginning to feel vaguely unwelcome. 

You roll off of him. "Um - yeah - they're a little weird - because -"

The little shit rolls on top of you, knees hitched up around your waist, hips grinding down into yours as he kisses your throat.

You groan. 

He really does learn quickly. 

And he already fucking found out that kissing your neck is guaranteed to make you as hard as the Hulk's muscles.

You can feel the thick lump of his boner rubbing against yours. You reach a hand down between you and unzip his pants and yours. He pushes into your hand and you let him, listening to him moan into your throat, feeling his lips graze your jugular, his breath hot against your skin. 

You wonder if he's got any stamina at all, considering the fact that this is his first time. Because you're absolutely sure it is. No one who's had sex before kisses the way he did. 

You push him off of you. He looks mildly shocked and more than a little hurt. "I am  _not_ letting you cum before you've even taken off your pants," you say sternly, pulling off his pants and boxers in one motion. You stop.

He really is beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous, with his dark brown skin uninterrupted by clothing, his body stretched out across the bed. All he's wearing is his glasses. You decide that you have a glasses fetish, right then and there. Two round circles of glass shouldn't make anyone look that good. 

You push your pants down and kick them away, and watch John's eyes drag down your body. They stop when they reach your dick. His adam's apple bobs. 

You want his mouth on your dick, you want to watch the rims of those glasses bobbing up and down and you want to twine your hand in his hair and you want to feel his tongue tracing your veins and - 

Not today. Not today not today not today. You repeat it one more time: not today. You know beyond a shadow of doubt that he's not up to giving blow jobs yet.

You perform a contortionist bend over the side of the bed and grab the plastic bag, opening the box and pulling out a condom. You glance up to see John fondling himself. You slap his hand away. "Nope. There is no way on Earth I'm letting you cum now unless you're planning on blowing me." You roll the condom on and slather lube on your fingers. "Spread your legs."

He does.

"If at any point, you want me to stop, tell me, all right? I'll stop. You want me to slow down? Tell me, and I'll slow down. You're not comfortable? Tell me. All right? Don't do anything you don't want to do."

He nods, looking mildly fearful.

You begin tracing circles around his tight little ring of muscle.

His breathing picks up. "It's  _cold_ ," he complains.

"Yeah, I know. I can't actually do anything about that. Sorry." You push one finger inside him, up to the knuckle.

He stops breathing. 

You stop moving. 

His breathing picks up.

You begin moving, rubbing, pressing, until you think he's ready for a second finger. This time, when his breath hitches, you don't stop moving. You scissor your fingers, stretching him out, watching his fingers clenching in the sheets. He twists his head to the side and closes his eyes.

You want to see his eyes, you want him to watch you. You don't want him to turn away from you, ever. You want him to look at you.

You hunt for his prostate and press.

His eyes fly open and his back arches. " _Dirk_!"

You grin. "I wanted to see your eyes."

"You could've just  _said_  that -"

You push again, and his sentence is cut short with the loudest groan you've ever heard. "But I didn't want to."

You slide your fingers out of him, find the lube, and slather it on your dick. He watches you with apprehension. You wonder if he knew what he was doing when he agreed to having sex. "John? If you don't want to do this, we don't have to. We could totally do something else, there's like fifteen thousand other things we could -"

He shakes his head violently. "No, no. It... it feels good after a little while, right?"

You nod.

He takes a deep breath. "Then go ahead."

You slide inside him, a centimeter at a time. His eyes focus on a spot on the ceiling. His dick softens. You pause once you're fully sheathed inside him, waiting. You plant kisses over his collarbone and down his throat and over his shoulders, and his dick hardens and his breathing picks up again. You slowly pull out, and slowly push back in, listening to your breath whistle out through your mouth, the noise mingling with John's low moans. His hands have found something new to grasp: your back. He drags his nails across your skin, and you wish you could say it was a turn off, but it's the exact opposite, and you're gasping for breath and you're not moving slowly anymore, no you're not, and you really hope you're not hurting him but he hasn't said anything and judging by the way he's moaning your name and matching your rhythm with his hips he's either not in pain or he doesn't care. You bite his neck, marking his smooth skin, making him yours, all yours, only yours, and if anyone tries to take him from you you'll -

He pulls your face up and kisses you, frantically, almost painfully, and distracts you from that train of thought. He's shuddering, losing his rhythm, and you're pretty fucking close to cumming too, what with the extraordinary tightness of his asshole and the plumpness of his ass and his dick brushing against your stomach and his teeth on your lip.

You steady yourself with one hand and reach down with the other. You grab his dick and start pumping, pressing under the flared head and along the vein that travels down the side.

He cums seconds later, yelling your name, ass clenching around you, legs tightening around your waist, nails digging into your back, and you want to close your eyes against the sudden pressure but if his face isn't the hottest thing in the universe you don't know what is and you feel a tightening in your balls and -

You hear yourself yell " _John_ -!" as if from far away and his face disappears and it's because you've shut your eyes, you've shut your eyes and everything's dark and there's nothing to distract you from the waves of pleasure rocking your body. 

You almost collapse on top of him, holding yourself up through sheer willpower, and you're not even sure where that came from, to be perfectly honest. You stay there for a moment, waiting for him to unclench his limbs, which he finally does with a loud exhale. You slowly pull out of him and fall to the side. Both of you are covered in cum, and the condom is starting to feel strange around your dick. You pull it off, tie it as tightly as you can manage, and look around you.

"Do you not have a garbage can?"

"Not in here," he mumbles, looking at you with hazy eyes. He's tired. You're tired. You're staying the night. You've decided that.

You get up and go to the bathroom, where you throw out the condom and grab a towel. You return to John's bedroom and wipe off your stomach and his - he looks too tired to do it himself. You drop the towel over the side of the bed, climb in next to him, and pull up the blankets. You wrap your arms around him and pull him against you. It's a good thing you left Hell late; it means that you can spend the entire night, and probably even a good portion of the morning. 

John tucks his face into your chest and wraps one lazy arm around you, his hand playing with the hair at the base of your neck. "Are you staying?" He mumbles.

"Yeah, I'm staying the night," you say quietly. 

You feel him exhale, feel him relax into you. "Good."


	10. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something simulating actual plot development. Incredible.  
> A blow job.  
> Also, hinting at the fluffiest chapter I'll ever write, in a few chapters. This thing is getting longer than I meant it to be.

A dim light is working its way through the curtains when a buzzing wakes you up. 

You moved at some point over the course of the night, and your ass is currently situated against Dirk's penis.

Considering what you learned last night about penises and butts, you're ok with that.

But the buzzing is your cell phone, so it's probably Jade and therefore important. It's vibrating against the floor. It must have fallen out of your pants pocket last night. 

You carefully untangle yourself from Dirk's arms and legs. He doesn't wake up. He's as deep a sleeper as you are. You're pretty sure the only reason your phone woke you up was because you were waking up already - you fell asleep pretty early last night.

The phone has stopped ringing by the time you stand up, and you take a minute to pull on a pair of boxers. You grab the phone off the floor and slip out the door, closing it behind you as you shiver in the sudden cold of the living room. You dial Jade's number.

"John?" She answers on the first ring. 

"Hey Jade, sorry I didn't answer, I was asleep... why are you calling so early? So early for me, anyway."

"I'm pregnant."

You stand perfectly still, in the middle of your living room. The light isn't half so dim in here; your living room faces East, and the first sunbeams of the morning are poking through your windows. Your furniture is all grey and tinted pink and looks slightly surreal. Clearly, the strangeness of the morning is affecting your hearing. "What?"

"I'm pregnant. I have a baby growing in my womb. There is a being gaining life within my body."

"Will it be... human? Or an angel?"

"I have no idea."

"Did you ask Dad?"

"Not yet."

"He doesn't know?"

"He does his best not to watch us while we're down here, unless we call Him."

Something releases in your stomach - a knot of tension, the fear that your Dad knows what you did last night. It's ok. He doesn't watch you. "Do you think he'll be angry?"

"I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I can't go back to Heaven until the baby is born. I don't think dissolving my body would be good for it."

"Will you follow a normal human schedule? Nine months of pregnancy and such?"

"I have no idea!" She yells. You jump. You hear her take a deep breath. "Sorry. I just - I don't know what to do."

"Dad won't be angry. He's literally never been angry."

She sighs. "I know, but - I don't think one of his children ever got pregnant, either."

"Do you need me to do anything? You could probably come live with me - I don't know how much help I'd be, but -" But you have a boyfriend now and please, oh please, Jade, don't say yes to that offer -

"No, I don't think I will."

You breathe a silent exhale of relief.

"I was thinking of going back to Texas, though."

"What?" Texas? That's where Dirk got his accent from.

"Yeah - when I first came down here, I was in Texas, but it turns out there was an entire community of demons living around the corner. That's when I moved to Africa. No demons here."

"I know a guy from Texas," you say absentmindedly, thinking of what Dirk looked like, the lower half of his body covered with blankets, the upper half bathed in the grey-pink dawn light, his face clear and calm and unobstructed by his shades.

Jade laughs a little. "Here's hoping he's not one of the demons. I met the Prince of Hell once and -" she snorts. " _He_ was a piece of work, let me tell you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he never smiled, and he almost never talked. It was like he didn't know how to communicate. But demons are like that - they're not big on human contact. They're just on Earth to tempt people."

"What did he look like?" You ask, curiosity piqued.

"He - you know what, I'm not going to tell you. I don't want to make you biased against anyone who looks like him. Don't worry, if you're in his proximity Dad will get you out of there. That counts as danger. And I'm pretty sure they're still in Texas."

"Why do you want to go back there, then?" The door opens behind you, and before you can even turn around, Dirk's arms are sliding around your waist. He nuzzles your neck, on the side that doesn't have a phone attached to it.

"I had a friend there who was a midwife. She knows I'm an angel. If this baby is weird, she'll be the best person to help me."

"That's a good idea." You'd like to say more, but Dirk's lips are slightly distracting. "Listen, I have to go, ok? I have to go to the bathroom, and I'm starving. I'll call you back later, all right?"

"Oh - ok. Yeah, it is still early where you are, isn't it. All right, I'll let you go. And you don't have to call me - I'll call you once I've talked to Dad, okay?"

"All right. Bye. Love you!"

"Bye, John. Love you too."

You end the phone and tilt your head to the side so Dirk can plant kisses along your throat and jaw. 

"Who was that?" he asks. 

He look at him out of the corner of your eye. His orange eyes are peaceful, staring out the window at the rising sun. "My sister." You have to admit, his eyes were a shock. But you should have suspected there was something strange about them; people don't wear shades all the time unless they're hiding their eyes.

"Why was she calling so early?"

You can't help but notice that the sky is turning a shade of orange that's the exact same as Dirk's eyes. "She just found out she's pregnant."

His eyebrows fly up. "At -" he glances at the clock. "Oh. It's already six-thirty. Ok. Wait, no, that's still definitely too early."

"She doesn't live here. She's in Johnannesburg."

"Oh."

"They're seven hours ahead. It's one-thirty in the afternoon there."

"Ah." He chews on his lip. "I'm hungry. Want food?"

"Always."

He unwraps himself from you, leaving you unpleasantly cold, and heads towards the kitchen. You turn to adjust the thermostat and notice something strange. "Dirk?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you wearing my boxers?"

He looks at you - and it's incredible, to be able to see where he's looking instead of just trying to figure it out based on the angle of his head - and says: "Because you're wearing mine."

You look down. 

Those aren't your boxers.

You flush. "It was dark, and my sister -"

He laughs. "I don't care, don't worry about it."

You turn the heat up, although there's really no reason for it; your face is currently hot enough to warm the house to Saharan temperatures. 

Dirk cooks you breakfast. You try not to think about how often he's cooked for you. You try not to think about how happy it makes you to see him standing there in your kitchen, in your boxers, half-naked in spite of the cold. You definitely try not to think about how much you want to see him there every morning, about how you want to spend every night with him, having sex or not, you honestly don't care, as long as you get to wake up surrounded by the warmth of his body. 

You choose to completely forget that you've already been here for a little over two months, and how you have to go back to Heaven in under ten months. Because you have to. You're the only Heir left. 

Twelve months hadn't seemed like that long, even before you had someone holding you here. 

What are you going to tell Dirk?

Assuming you're still doing this, ten months from now.

"Are you all right?" Dirk's waving a plate under your nose. Pancakes. His orange eyes are filled with concern.

Somehow, even though he's essentially the cause of your anxiety, he helps lift it. You grin at him. "Of course."

He smiles and sits across from you. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

"Christmas? Oh! Um." You forgot. Christmas is in just a few weeks, isn't it. It's so strange that so many people celebrate the birth of your human brother on a day that isn't his birthday. "I'm not sure."

"Is your family coming up?"

"No. I don't think so." Jade would have mentioned it if she was coming down. "Is your family coming down?" Well, his family wouldn't be coming down - they're not angels like your family is.

"No. Even Roxy isn't coming up."

You perk up. Of course, it's sad that he won't be able to see his family, but! "You should come here!"

"Are you sure?" He asks, but you can see that grin flitting across his face. 

"Yes! You need to help me decorate. I've never decorated before." 

"Never?"

"Nope!" 

"Do you not celebrate Christmas? Is that why your family isn't coming up?"

You shake your head. You made a mistake somewhere along the way - oh! You said you didn't decorate. "No, no, I do, but my mom always decorated, I never had anything to do with it, and I guess I never really noticed..."

"Oh. Yeah, I can probably help with that. It'll have to wait, though. My - the people I live with - I didn't tell them I was spending the night here. They're probably worried."

"Oh! Yeah, of course. I guess you want to leave soon, then?" You ask cheerfully, but it doesn't change the fact that your heart just twisted a little. You were hoping he'd stay for a little while.

He glances at the clock. "Yeah, I should probably leave soon."

"Yeah," you say, for lack of anything better to say.

He glances downward. "I'm gonna need my boxers back."

You blush. "Right."

He heads into your bedroom, presumably to find his clothing. You dump your plates in the sink and follow him.

He's already out of your boxers and waiting for you when you get in there. You turn around as you undress, somehow feeling more naked than last night. 

He snorts, and then his arms are around you, and he's kissing your neck, and tracing your spine with his lips, and his hands are flat, fingers splayed across your stomach, and your breath is ragged. He's pulling you backwards, whispering something in your ear - "If you want me to stop, just say the word" - and he keeps saying that, and you're grateful for the opportunity and you're absolutely sure that today is not the day you're going to take him up on it. He presses you gently onto the bed, but doesn't go for the lube, and you can't imagine what he's doing when his tongue traces patterns down your stomach and flicks across that spot on your stomach that's way more sensitive than it should be and then he puts his mouth over the head of your penis and sucks, flicking his tongue across the slit, following veins with his tongue the way he'd followed your spine with his lips. And then his mouth engulfs your penis, and you can feel the insides of his cheeks massaging you and his teeth grazing lightly down your entire length and his tongue twisting and pressing against you and his hand cupping your balls and he's humming and  _that_ is just  _wrong_ and it should be  _illegal_ because it's the most incredible thing you've ever felt in your life and you spent most of your life in  _Heaven_ and this is  _better than that_ it's _perfect_ and  _incredible_ and you glance down at him and he's looking up at you with those bright orange eyes that put the sunrise to shame and it's too much for you, you release, your body jerking and your hand tangled in his hair and when did your hand get there and does it matter?

 When you stop shuddering, he kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

"Time for me to go," he mutters against your lips. 

Your eyes fly open. He's dressed? Already? He  _is_ dressed. "When did you get dressed?!" You exclaim, voice rising in pitch. You sit up, nearly smacking your head into his, entirely too well-aware of your own nakedness.

"Trade secret, Egbert." He winks at you before sliding his shades on, covering his eyes. "See you tomorrow!"

He slips out of the room, and before you can even stand, you hear the front door shut. 

You sit there in a daze for several minutes, trying to figure out how anyone could possibly move that fast. 

You come to the conclusion that you just move impossibly slow.


	11. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solving problems, explaining things. Family teamwork.

You jog all the way back home. You know you've got time, but you also know that degeneration is a process. It takes time. And it starts early.

When you first heard the story of Cinderella, you wondered if it was loosely based off of a demon who came to Earth. Humanoid bodies - for demons, anyway; angels don't have this problem, the lucky bastards - degenerate. They don't just disappear until you're a demon on Earth; they fall apart. First your skin starts flaking off, then your fingers and toes wither and die, and so on and so forth until, 24 hours after getting to Earth, you're dead and your body is in pieces on the sidewalk. Dying is different for angels and demons; your soul is lessoned nearly to the point of non-existence, and if you don't have incredible willpower, you might exist in that state forever. If you have the strength, you can will yourself back to the point at which you'll be stuck in Heaven or Hell - whichever one is your natural home - until your soul gains the strength to have a body again, a process that can take decades, centuries. You would rather not deal with that.

By the time you get back to your house, your skin is dry, flakey.

"Hey, fuckface, where were you last night?" Karkat asks, barely looking up from his book.

"Out."

"Out where?"

"None of your business."

He glances up. His yellow eyes make him look vaguely cat-like. "You're degenerating."

"Yup. So I gotta go. Bye!" You pull open the oaken door and step through.

Roxy is in your face, screeching at you before you get a chance to close the door.

" _Dirk Strider, I swear on my shoes_ -"

You ignore most of her rant, but you understand that she was on the verge of leaving to hunt you down.

" _I don't know what you think you're doing but you've been up there for over twelve hours_ -"

"I've stayed up there overnight before, you never cared."

" _Overnight is different_!  _Twelve hours_!"

"It's not 24!"

" _Dirky_ -"

"Roxy -"

She heaves a sigh and stares at you. "You were with John, weren't you."

"Yes."

"Overnight."

"Yes."

Her anger clears away. If she had eyebrows, she'd be wiggling them. " _Oh_."

"So wait, if I'm having sex it's ok?"

She shrieks. "Dirky's in love! Dirky's in love!"

"Don't yell it too loud, Dad'll hear."

"You idiot, you don't get in trouble for loving people," she scoffs at you.

"Yeah, but he's human."

"You still don't get in trouble for loving people."

"Still. Also, how do you know I'm  _in love_? It's not like I've never had sex before."

"You've never spent the night." She pokes you in the arm. "Also, you're practically  _living_ with him. If you didn't have to come down here to regenerate every day, I'd never see you."

"Sorry, Rox. How about if I stay the rest of the day with you?"

"You just want me to try and extend the life of the humanoids."

"Well, that too. I promised John I'd spend Christmas with him."

She eyes you suspiciously, but shrugs. "Eh, I may as well. And we work pretty damn well together, don't we. And we talk way more when we're working, don't we." 

You follow her as she skips towards the backroom. She's made it into her own personal laboratory, and you've been using it to store your own attempts at simulating humanity in the form of robots. 

She begins chatting away at you, talking about the sudden downturn in the number of people coming to Hell, and the spike in this or that type of person coming to Hell, and also this chemical compound would react much better to the temperatures on Earth and help prevent degeneration, and this type of person has practically disappeared from Hell's newcomers.

You fiddle with the test body, made of equal parts Earth and Hell, altering the chemical composition of the body and the way it attaches to yours, the way it clamps onto your soul - "Roxy. What if - we could inject ourselves with this shit?"

She stares at you for a moment. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Well, before, we basically built a new body around ours, right? And it was dangerous, because after a few hours, our real bodies would begin eroding the humanoid bodies, and our bodies could never survive on Earth, so we would fall apart and died. But if we could inject the chemicals into ourselves - alter our bodies, instead of building a new one over it - we might be able to stay up there longer, because our body wouldn't be fighting against the thing letting us survive!" You can hear the excitement in your voice, and you know Roxy can too, and you know she wants you to be right, and you also know that she is the first person to destroy false hope.

She bites her lip as she thinks, mentally working through problems. 

The whole thing is unfolding in front of you, and for once, Roxy thinks silently, and you speak all your thoughts out loud. "And we could bring the chemicals with us up to Earth - we could travel - we wouldn't have to worry about another debacle like Texas again -"

She shudders. "Don't even mention Texas. I swear I won't sleep well at night until I know exactly where the Heir is."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's not here, but still, wouldn't it be good to not have to worry about getting cut off from home again?"

She's still frowning, but you know you've convinced her. Texas was a horror that no demon wanted to repeat. "Fine. We'll try it. Are you willing to be the test subject?"

"Sure. But we have  _got_ to make sure the bodies look the same."

"Why?"

"Because if I turn up at John's doorstep in a different body, he's gonna ask some awkward questions."

She laughs. "Ok. I guess we can change the eyes though, so you can stop wearing those shades and I can stop saying there were birthing complications that resulted in my pink eyes."

"No, the eyes have to be the same too. For me, at least."

"Why? Did John see your eyes too?" 

"Yes."

"What?" She gapes at you. "Shit. Wait. You had sex with him - with the  _lights on_?"

"It was kind of accidental."

It takes Roxy several minutes to stop laughing.

Five hours later, she's hunting down a syringe. "Ready?"

"No - I have another idea."

She groans. "I hate ideas!"

"Yeah. Anyway. We don't know how long this will take to wear off, or if we'll be able to survive as humanoids in Hell. Before, our transformations were regulated by the door. What if we made this self-regulating? Like - put it in a pill. Or - a chip. A computer chip attached to a pill. Swallow it. The moment you step through the door, it activates, and puts out a steady stream of the chemical, keeping you human as long as there's shit left in the pill. When you step back through the door, it cuts off the supply, allowing you to drop the humanoid. We'll have to figure out how long a pill can last - then again, wouldn't we have to specialize? Based off of a person's weight? And it would have to be just enough that cutting off the supply instantly drops the humanoid..."

Roxy turns and hits her head against the wall, multiple times, muttering about stupid brothers and their crushes making her life hard. 

It's nearly two in the morning by the time you've made a prototype, and you don't even care - this is the fastest progress you've ever made, on anything, in your life, and it's one of the greatest things you've ever created, and Roxy knows it. She's smiling and exhausted by the time she pushes a pill, the chip embedded inside, and follows you to the large door leading to Earth. You swallow the pill.

She watches you.

A minute passes.

Nothing happens. 

She nods, pleased. "So at the very least, it doesn't activate  _before_ you go through the door."

"You're sure you don't want to try it?"

She shakes her head. "Nope. I'm going through, using my normal humanoid, so that if something goes wrong with your overly-technological humanoid I can get back down here. I'm not taking one of those things until I know exactly what's going to happen."

"I feel like a guinea pig," you mutter.

"Fuck that particular type of pig. Why use one of them when you've got a brother?" She says cheerfully, muffling a yawn.

You open the door and step through. Roxy follows you.

You watch as your body disappears, skin rippling as the chemicals spread through it, body changing into one that can withstand Earth's atmosphere. You grin, and feel your human skin stretching across your face. You run your hands through your hair, and you can feel it, the exact same length as your humanoid hair has ever been. Your skin is still pale, and - you push your sleeve up - you still have that fucking freckle on your shoulder. "Are my eyes the same?" You ask Roxy.

She nods, grinning. "Just as orange as the day you got your humanoid."

You laugh, a laugh that is as much because you're exhausted as because you managed this feat of engineering.

"The fuck is going on?" A voice grumbles. Karkat emerges from the main room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What on Earth are you two doing?"

"Karkat! Do you notice anything different about me?" You ask.

He looks you over. "No. Wait! Don't tell me! You're more of an asshole than normal? Is that it? I'm right, aren't I?"

"No, you moron. There isn't supposed to be anything different. I'm supposed to look exactly the same."

He stares at you. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Nope! But I do have a quick question for you. Do you ever go back to Hell?"

"Obviously I do, I'd be dead if I didn't."

"Well, but other than that."

"Not really, no. Why? Is it any of your business?"

"No, I just think you'd be a great guinea pig."

"Test subject," Roxy grumbles next to you. "I hate guinea pigs."

"What do you have against guinea pigs?" You ask.

"So many things."

"Wait, wait, wait," Karkat interrupts. "What am I testing?"

"How long you can survive on a pill."

"What?"

"Here, come here, we'll show you. Oh, wait, Roxy, you should go through first, so that if something goes wrong, you can push me back through the door."

She goes through and you follow her.

For half a millisecond, the heat chokes you, burns you - and then it's over, and you're alive, in your demon body. 

Roxy grins. "It works! It cuts off instantaneously!"

"Not really - but really friggin close, and probably as close as we're gonna get."

You drag Karkat back into the backroom, ignoring his protests, and explain what you've done - up to a point, anyway. You know he won't listen to most of the science shit. But he takes one, and stashes three in his pocket, and swears to record everything that happens. 

Roxy says good night, giving you an impulsive hug. "If Karkat doesn't die tonight and you survive tomorrow, I'm distributing these to every demon, leaving them by the door, making them until I can't use my hands any more, and making the things refillable. And then finding a group of the souls least worthy of punishment, and forcing them to make the damn pills so I don't have to."

"Good night to you too, Rox," you say as you wander into your bedroom.

In spite of the heat rising up from the uppermost level of Hell directly underneath your house, you feel cold that night, entirely devoid of the heat provided by John's body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=6&p=006410


	12. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DECORATING FOR CHRISTMAS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by the christmas songs they're playing all over my school.

Dirk knows every word.

Every.

Single.

One.

"I want a hippopotamus for Christmas, only a hippopotamus will do..." he sings.

He's driving your car, because he asked and you like the look on his face when he gets to drive this car. 

The song changes.

"The lights on my tree, I wish you could see, I wish it every day..."

At least he has a nice voice.

"You can sing along too," he chastises you between songs.

"I like listening to your voice," you say. It's partially true, and it's not like you can tell him that you've never heard a Christmas carol in your life.

His face turns bright red. 

He doesn't sing the next two songs.

A third one starts. "Is this-?" he gasps, turning up the volume. "It is! It's the song everyone sings at the end of the Charlie Brown Christmas movie!"

The song begins "Hark, the Herald Angels sing, glory to the new born king."

You wish you could explain the irony of that song; angels don't sing very often, and they definitely didn't sing when Jesus was born; he might have been the son of God, but Mary said very firmly that if anyone woke up the baby, she would personally hunt them down. Not a peep was heard that night.

When the song ends, Dirk turns the radio down. "My entire family celebrates Christmas - or did, when we were all together. We thought it was hysterical, y'know, celebrating Jesus's birthday on a day that wasn't his birthday.  _Hark the Herald Angels Sing_ was always our favorite, because we wondered if the angels actually did sing, y'know - what with Jesus bein' a baby and all, if he would have woken up. We always figured Mary would have hated anyone who woke up the baby, y'know?"

You've noticed that whenever he talks about his childhood, his accent becomes more pronounced, and he says "y'know" multiple times per sentence. You only comprehend that subconsciously, though - you're too shocked by his words. You laugh. "Yeah. Actually, that was something my dad used to say, too. That we shouldn't sing, because we might wake the baby." You wish you could tell him how right he is.

He laughs and glances at you. His sunglasses are tucked into his shirt, and you're glad; you can see his eyes better like this. "I bet we're right."

He pulls into the parking lot of the closest mall. "Right. We need Christmas lights, tree ornaments, any decorations you see that you like, and a Christmas tree, and we're getting a real one - unless you're allergic - so we've gotta put that on top of this -" he pats the car - "which might actually scratch the top of the car, but the car'll have to survive." He puts his shades on. He wasn't wearing them when he turned up on your doorstop an hour ago, and you're quickly realizing that you're the only one allowed to see his eyes. 

Every time you think about that, you smile.

The two of you walk determinedly into the mall, and the first store on your left is seasonal, you presume; it only sells Christmas decorations. 

"Jackpot," Dirk says under his breath as you walk in. 

What started out as a serious shopping trip quickly devolves into a contest to find the worst decoration. Dirk finds a farting Santa Claus. You find an automated Santa that bends over and pulls down its pants. The tag advertises "the rosiest cheeks you've ever seen!" 

Dirk nearly pees in his pants.

You decide that you're buying it, and grab a basket from the front of the store. Dirk drops the farting Santa in there too.

He finds a set of tree ornaments shaped like reindeer, all of whom have wacky expressions on their faces. He chuckles as he drops them in the basket.

You find an ornament that sings in a high, warbling tone that makes you want to claw your ears off. You insist on buying it. 

You both decide against a set of generic red and green balls.

He finds garland; you find tinsel; you both decide on red lights. "We have to have  _something_ normal about this tree," Dirk decrees, "to show that we did actually put some work into it."

"Do it for the irony," you declare.

He grins. "Exactly."

You pick out an angel for the top of the tree. It's ridiculous; angels don't look anything like that. Dirk laughs, asking if angels really float around Heaven looking like that. You shake your head. 

You watch him as he grins at the angel in the box, and wonder how you could possibly have been lucky enough to pick a seat in a bar right next to the one in which he would sit, lucky enough to have a body that reacted that badly to alcohol to make him worry. How could you possibly have been lucky enough to meet him, this incredible human being that somehow understands the truth of the world, and doesn't look at you strangely when you talk about it? To find this person you can talk to for hours on end? This person you can trust completely, entirely - because if it came down to it, you would trust him with your life, with all of Heaven. How could you be lucky enough to keep him? To somehow manage to keep drawing him back to you? To be the person he visits every day? How is it possible that you're the person he loves? Sometimes you wonder if your Dad had something to do with it, but he flatly refuses to interfere in the love lives of humans, and Jade swore that he would only get involved over the course of your year here if you were in danger. 

"Are you all right?" Dirk asks, head tilted towards you. 

You realize you've been standing there for several seconds now, lost in your thoughts. You smile at him, and impulsively wrap an arm around his neck, pull his face down to yours, and kiss him.  

He kisses you back, and he's grinning when he pulls away. 

He doesn't really stop smiling for the rest of the time you're in the store, and you're not sure how much of that is attributable to the elves you found that sing adult versions of Christmas songs while shaking their butts and wiggling their hips. 

The cashier looks at you oddly as you check out. You're pretty sure it's because of the decorations you're buying, but Dirk swears that it's because he's a hot piece of ass. You're forced to agree with him on that. 

You end your shopping trip at a Christmas tree farm, where you buy the biggest tree you can fit through your door. Dirk's face contorts into an expression of pure misery when they tie the tree to the roof of your Challenger, but you pat his arm and tell him to suck it up. He mutters about how "ya' suck a dude's dick once and he never stops talking about it" until you get in the car and the radio flares to life, at which point his inner dork awakens, and he starts singing again. "Rudolph the red nosed reindeer (reindeer) had a very shiny nose (like a lightbulb) and if you ever saw it (saw it) you would even say it glows (like a... I already said lightbulb shitthenextlineisstarting) all of the other reindeer..." 

You find it odd that he adds on words in the middle of the song.

He heaves the Christmas tree over his shoulder when you get home, dragging it in the house, telling you to grab the stand and leave the rest of the ornaments and fill it with water. You rush to do as he says, giggling as you carry it carefully into the living room and see him bent over under the weight of the tree. You set it in the corner, and he gently lowers the tree onto the stand. You help him unwrap it from the netting that kept it slim enough to carry, and when the final branch springs free you both stand back and admire it. Dirk begins quietly singing "O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, how lovely are your branches," and you hum along, recognizing the melody from your car ride but forgetting most of the lyrics. 

Dirk insists that you move your radio-clock from your bedroom into the living room. He turns on Christmas carols, and sings them as you decorate, draping garland across the branches and wrapping the lights around it and placing the tinsel on strategic branches. Dirk laughs so hard when you pull out the ornaments that he has to sit in the bathroom for a few minutes.

You're halfway through the pile when Dirk's phone rings. He glances at the screen. "It's Roxy." He answers it. "Hi. Really? ...Still? ...That's incredible!" He glances at the clock. You do too. It's five in the evening. "Damn... yeah, of course. I told you I would... of course he is, did you expect anything else? ...Yeah. Definitely... great. Bye." He ends the call and grins at you, and his grin is the happiest thing you've seen all day. You wonder what Roxy said, but he's not offering up any information, so you don't ask, and just grin back. He whistles cheerfully, even through commercials, and insists on watching Christmas movies. You go through several on Netflix, cuddled up against Dirk, before your eyes start to drift shut. 

The TV goes black, and you feel Dirk shift until you're in his arms. The couch disappears, and a few minutes later, you fall back into the soft embrace of your bed. You clutch his shirt sleepily. "Stay?"

You see the bright light of his phone, and then it disappears. "All right."

He disappears out of your hands, and you whine, "Dirk -!"

"Breathe, I'm not going anywhere, I'm just taking off my jeans. I ain't sleeping in them."

His words remind you that you, too, are fully dressed, and you wiggle out of your jeans and sweatshirt. You're momentarily cold, but then the blankets shift and the mattress dips, and you feel his arm wrap around you and pull you against him. His bare legs wrap around yours, and you're thousands of times warmer than you were last night, in spite of the fact that last night you actually wore pants to sleep. You nuzzle into his chest and wrap your arm around his neck and feel him bury his face in your hair and you smile, and you pray with all of your heart that tonight lasts forever, because you never want to leave Dirk's arms.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you never sang that version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer I don't know what to say to you.


	13. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas, because I really, really wanted to write this chapter, and because after this plot needs to happen. Unfortunately.  
> A little sad. Don't worry, I promised a happy ending, and there'll be one. I won't let my babies be sad forever.

Christmas is both the best and worst time of year, for a demon.

On one hand, it's absolutely hysterical to watch humans run around buying each other gifts in the name of baby Jesus, screeching at each other about the meaning of Christmas and God and Jesus, when in reality, Christmas is on December 25th because the Christians wanted to take the winter solstice from the pagans. 

On the other hand, it's essentially impossible to walk around without having God's name thrown into your face.

And really, it doesn't matter. God and angels are no more present during Christmas than they are on any other day of the year. Christmas is no more dangerous to you than any other time. 

But still. Some part of you worries that saying His name will invoke Him, somehow, and demons will be cleared from the Earth, and locked away in the ground away from the sun forever. 

You've spent most Christmasses in Hell. 

But the sun is slowly setting on Christmas Eve, and you're carrying a bag with pajamas and clothes for tomorrow, as well as two pills - one for if you choose to stay for longer than three days, which you doubt you will, and one for if the other gets lost. The pills are a success: Karkat hasn't been back down to hell in a week, and every demon that comes up to Earth carries at least two with them, just in case. 

You knock on John's door, although with the amount of time you spend at his house, you could probably just walk in. It's a moot point, though; your knuckles have barely touched the door when it swings open. 

"Dirk!" He chirps. "You're the last guest!"

"The last -?" But you don't get to finish. 

He pulls you inside. His house is warm and well-lit, with carols playing on the radio in the living room, and smells like turkey and apple pie. He drags you into his kitchen, where Aradia, Kanaya, Eridan, and some kid named Sollux whom John met in an incident involving his computer which he flatly refuses to tell you about. 

It's probably selfish of you, to be annoyed. You were hoping to have John to yourself.

But you're a demon, so it's ok to be selfish. 

And anyway, you're willing to bet no one else is staying the night.

You really, really hope no one else is staying the night.

Not that you're above an orgy, but John is yours, and you have, somehow, against your better judgment and your entire personality and your DNA, become his. And if you have to follow him wherever he goes after his year is up, if you have to make Roxy send you pills whenever you run out, you'll do it, because you cannot for the life of you remember what you did with yourself before you met John. You know you drank a lot. You know you said you'd work on your robots, and then didn't. 

You really don't know how you passed the time, without that dork cracking stupid jokes and making shitty puns.

As the evening wears on, you find that John's friends aren't too bad. Kanaya makes you laugh once or twice. Eridan's a douchebag, but in an angry, Karkat-esque way. Aradia is the happiest person you've ever met, and without a doubt the creepiest. Sollux lisps his way through muttered insults, aimed at anyone and everyone.

You watch him move closer to Aradia as time passes. 

Aradia notices too.

She doesn't appear to mind. 

You find yourself preoccupied by their burgeoning relationship, watching them crack jokes under their breath. It's the same thing you and John do when you watch movies. Sollux smiles when he talks to her, the same way you smile when you talk to John. Aradia seems to find his morbid jokes funny, the same way John finds your morbid jokes funny.

John pokes you in the ribs. "Hey. You ok?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're quiet. You're never quiet."

You tap your index finger against his nose. "Wrong. I'm never quiet  _around you_. Other people barely hear my voice."

"Well, it's a pretty voice, so you should start using it."

You grin. He said that a few weeks ago, and apparently noticed how much it flustered you - you've never liked your voice - and hasn't stopped slipping in little things about how pretty it is and how good a singing voice it is and how much he likes it. 

You don't know what you did to deserve John Egbert.

You don't know what part of your demonic, pushy, manipulative life as Prince of Hell made you worthy of John - with his unwavering love of any movie you can find, and his goofy buck-toothed grin, and his giggle whenever he plays a prank on anyone or makes a shitty joke, and his combination of childish immaturity and his old-soul ability to accept and understand and empathize with literally anyone, and his ability to love you - because he might not know about your status in Hell but you haven't exactly put a damper on your personality, and he still loves and trusts you, and you can feel it every time he falls asleep in your arms or against your shoulder or on your lap while you're watching a movie late at night, and when he kisses you hello and goodbye, and when he trusts you with his entire body, trusts you not to hurt or damage it or break his heart. 

You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, you're waiting to hear the punchline of the joke - the pills will fail, the door between Hell and Earth will collapse, John decides he's had enough of your bullshit.

You can't imagine that this will last forever.

Even if it does, he's human. You're a demon. 

That reality dumps itself on you like Dorothy's House dropped on the Wicked Witch of the East. 

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

You barely manage to shut the door before your legs buckle underneath you - no, underneath the weight of that piece of shit you call a heart, because it just turned to iron. You're a demon. He's human. Even if everything goes perfectly, even if everything works out, the other shoe will drop eventually. He will die. You will not. 

You almost have the selfishness required to wish he was a bad person, so he could go to Hell and spend eternity with you there.

Almost.

You can't bring yourself to wish an eternity of pain on him. You're a demon, and selfishness and cruelty is in your DNA, but you can't do it.

Somehow, that knowledge brings you peace. You will not hurt him, so you can only do what you can to minimize your own pain. Not a happy ending, but one that you can control, at least.

For normal people, that would mean cutting off your relationship now. It's hurting you, so it's time for you to leave.

You're not a normal person. 

You stand. You flush the toilet and run the faucet, just in case anyone's listening. 

You exit the bathroom.

Ride out the rest of the party.

John relaxes infantesimally when the door shuts behind Aradia and Sollux, who had discovered that they'd both already had their family parties and would be alone tonight, and came to the conclusion that they should spend the night with each other, to absolutely no one's surprise. You're glad. You're happy that other people can be happy without worrying that one will outlive the other by an infinite number of years.

John grins at you as he pulls off your shades. His grin widens when he sees your eyes. You grin back. He's the only person you've ever met who smiled when they saw your eyes. 

You kiss him. He throws his arms around your neck and kisses you back enthusiastically. 

Music floats in from the living room. 

You maneuver him into the living room, lit by the dim edges of what's floating in from the kitchen and by the lights on the Christmas tree. 

"May I have this dance?" You murmur.

He laughs. "You may."

You're glad he doesn't know how to dance. You don't know how to either. It leaves you free to sway from side to side, moving in lazy circles across his floor. It gives you the leisure to study his face, memorize it, examine the way it changes as you move and the light falls on him from different angles. You sing, under your breath, "Baby It's Cold Outside" and "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "O Come All Ye Faithful" and "We Three Kings" and every other song that makes it on, without interruption, because it's Christmas Eve and there aren't any commercials on this radio station because they don't want to interrupt the songs, and you do it all for the sake of seeing the way he looks at you when you sing, like you're an angel instead of a demon, like you sing with the voice of God instead of the voice of Lucifer's son, like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You do it because when he leans his head against your chest, you know it's to listen to the beat of your heart and to feel the rumble as you sing. 

And when he kisses you, you know it's not because he wants you to stop, but because he, like you, needs  _more_ , because he wants to be connected to you like you want to be connected to him, because he wants to be wrapped around you the way you want to be wrapped around him.

And when you stop singing, it's not because he made you, but because it's hard for you to sing when you're making love to him on the couch, drowning in a sea of his skin and finding your lifeboat in that same body.

And when you both fall silent, it's not because you're done listening to each other, but because you're falling asleep, wrapped around each other on his couch, certain that neither of you will fall because you're entangled in each other too tightly.

And when you pray, for the first time in your life, it's not for the selfish hope that this will last forever; you pray that you'll remember this forever, and you hope that God has mercy for even demons and allows you to hold on to this one memory, even if everything else fades away.


	14. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to visit Jade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys like this so much!! Thank you for all of your wonderful comments and thanks to whoever it was that sent me an anon the other day. For those of you who don't know but want to know, my tumblr url is youreyestheyglow, but I will warn you that I don't post much about my writing.  
> Thank you for reading!!!

You flatly refused to fly, so here you are, in your car, driving from Jersey down to Texas.

You're not  _scared_ to fly, not really, but all the same, it seems like a pain in the butt to go through an airport, and that thing called  _security_ , and get on a plane, and trust your life to a metal cylinder. Of course, if anything happened, your Dad would get you out, but still. 

Driving makes more sense.

It takes you two days; you stop overnight and every so often during the day, to eat and use a bathroom. You're intensely grateful to your Challenger for being able to drive so fast; it makes your ride much more fun.

You wish Dirk was there. You had asked him if he wanted to come, but you said "Texas" and he went pale and said no and gave some excuse which you discounted. You're not sure why he doesn't want to come - he said he used to come down here all the time - but you're not going to push him to do something that so obviously makes him uncomfortable. 

You wish Jade could meet him, though. You're sure she'd think he's great.

Jade called you the other day, asking you to come down to Texas to visit her. She found her friend the midwife, and is staying with her, but all the same, there are a lot of people who give her strange looks when they find out she's pregnant and not married or staying with the father of the baby. 

So here you are, standing on jelly legs after being in the car for two days, knocking on the door of her friend's house. 

Jade answers the door, throwing it open, face split by a buck-toothed grin that mirrors your own. She throws her arms around you, and you hug her, gently, because she said she's four months along, and that means that the baby will be born in June, and you know the baby is barely developed yet but you're thinking about June and four months and how there's a living being growing inside your sister's stomach and you don't know what to do about that but you don't want to hurt it.

She introduces you to her friend, Calliope, and shows you around the house. You will be spending your three nights here on the couch. 

You sit down with Jade and Calliope and they talk about the baby.

Calliope's voice makes you miss Dirk. She speaks with the same accent that slips out into Dirk's voice sometimes.

They say they're not sure if the baby will follow the same rules as a normal human baby: if Jade will be pregnant for nine months, if the baby will come out head-first, if it will even be human, but the fact that it's still too early to tell is a good sign that it's not developing faster than normal. 

Calliope asks if you would be all right with she and Jade living with you for a little while in June. She says that if something goes wrong and they need to go to a hospital, she'd rather go to a Northern hospital than a Southern hospital. She doesn't say why, but you remember what Jade said about getting strange looks from people and you agree to Calliope's proposal. 

Jade asks you how you've been doing, and you tell her about your dance lessons and your recital in June. She perks up and claps her hands, saying, "I'll be up there around that time, I can come watch you!" 

You choose not to tell her about Dirk. There are lots of things that you can talk about with your sister, but you don't even know how to broach the subject, let alone talk about it. 

"So, do you... like anyone?" She asks, waggling her eyebrows. 

There goes your resolve.

"Yes." You can feel yourself blushing. According to Dirk, your blush is adorable, but you don't think you want Jade to feel the same way about it.

"Do they... is there... is there any chance that you might procreate with them?"

You shake your head. "No."

She relaxes. "Hallelujah. We don't need two half-angel babies running around. Although it would be interesting to know how much of this baby's differences and similarities to a human baby are due to the mother and due to the father... maybe, if it was carried in a human body, it would be more humanoid?" Her eyes take on a vacant look as she turns inside herself, considering the genetics and the science and all the things you've never understood. 

She shakes herself. "No, I can't think about it, it'll drive me insane - there's no way I could test it. Or, there  _is_ , but I don't want anymore half-blood babies running around until I know what this one's like."

"And then? What, are you going to have angels mate with humans?"

She pouts. "No. That wouldn't be nice. But maybe..." she shakes herself again. "No. I can't do anything about this at the moment. Who do you like? What's their name?" 

"His name is Dirk," you say, the heat of a blush spreading up your cheeks again. 

She flinches.

"What?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"What?"

She refuses to answer. You grab her hand and shake her arm. "Teeeellllllllllll meeeeeeee!" You whine.

She sighs. "I don't want to make you think badly about your Dirk. I doubt he's the same one. If he was, that would count as you being in danger, and Dad would have moved you across the ocean to get you away from him."

"The same one?"

"Remember how I said I met the Prince of Hell?"

"Yeah."

"His name was Dirk."

You shudder involuntarily. "No. No, my Dirk is  _not_ the Prince of Hell. He's - he's good, he helped me, he always helps me, and - didn't you say the Prince of Hell never talked? Or smiled? When you called to tell me you were pregnant?"

She bites her lip as she thinks. "Yes," she says slowly.

"Well, my Dirk talks all the time! Sometimes he rambles for hours, just non-stop talking. And he smiles all the time, and he has the nicest smile, and the nicest voice, and sometimes he sings, and he has the best singing voice, and -"

"Have you asked him out on a date yet?" Jade says in a sing-song voice, apparently no longer worried about the Prince of Hell. 

"Um -" you frown. "I think we've been dating for a month or so now?" 

Her eyebrows shoot up. "You  _think_?"

"W-well," you stutter, "It's not like - it's not like it's - official, or something, but - uh - yeah."

The look that Jade gives you is a work of art: it tells you all at once that you're hopeless, pathetic, and absolutely awful at concealing information. 

Fortunately, she has mercy on you, and doesn't press, instead asking you about your friends from dance.

That night you sleep on the couch, curled up under a blanket and still strangely cold. You've gotten used to sleeping next to Dirk, with the heat of his body wrapped around yours, the soft sound of his breathing and, when you put your ear up to his chest, the sound of his heartbeat. And you never felt alone at home, even when he couldn't stay overnight, because your bed had started smelling like him, and he'd started leaving clothes at your house, and you often slept in one of his shirts.

You never told him that, though.

But you're pretty sure he knows, judging by the smirk he throws at you whenever it happens. 

It's hard to fall asleep, without your lover by your side.

The next day, Calliope joins you and Jade on a tour of the city. You take great joy in the bookstore, which has an enormous section for DVDs. You talk Jade's ear off about the merits of every single movie you've ever seen, even the ones you fell asleep during. It's not your fault that you fell asleep, though. You only fall asleep mid-movie when you're with Dirk. He makes a very comfortable pillow.

Jade takes you to see a movie. 

It's the first time you've seen a movie in a movie theater.

You can't believe you've never been to a movie theater before. 

It's incredible.

For a moment, you can't believe Dirk never thought to take you - and then you remember that he doesn't know you've never been to the movies, he'd have no reason to think he was showing you something special.

That night, somehow, it's even more difficult to fall asleep. Wandering around the city made you wonder if Dirk had ever been there, where in Texas he'd stayed when he came for the summer, if he'd have taken you to his favorite cafe - actually, knowing him, he'd have a favorite bar, and not know the name of a single cafe. You can't help but wonder what Dirk would have said, would have done, if he was here with you. You're sure he'd have gotten along with Jade and Calliope, and you'd have loved to put Jade's worries to rest. But in any case, your Dad would have rearranged the planet to keep you out of danger, and you're three thousand percent sure that making love to the Prince of Hell constitutes danger. 

You try to stop thinking about Dirk. It's making sleep impossible. 

Dirk calls you, the third day you're there. "Hey, Egbert," he says, and you know he didn't call you John because he's trying to sound cool, but he can't hide the happiness in his voice. You do him the favor of not pointing it out. 

You talk to him for forty minutes and find out that he often stayed right in the city. You name some of the places you've been, and he laughs and says yeah, he's been there. 

You don't ask him why he didn't come with you. 

It's okay, though, because you know it must be something important. You know there's a good reason why he didn't come. You hear it before he hangs up, when he says "I miss you" and you hear the same ache you've been feeling the past couple days. 

You feel very stupid for driving instead of flying; if you'd flown, you'd have been gone for four days. Driving, you're gone for six. 

"I miss you too."

"See you later, John. Love you."

In the silence that follows, you can hear his shock as well as yours. He didn't mean to say that.

But he's not taking it back.

"Love you too, Dirk."

 

A couple days later, when you pull into your driveway, he's walking up the sidewalk to your house.

When you get out of the car, he's there, and he catches you as you jump into his arms. 


	15. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk is more scared of the future than a senior college student thinking about her student loans.  
> John has a dance recital.   
> Dirk sees Jade for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry I'm not updating as often as usual (read: twice a day), but Thanksgiving happened, and I'm home for break so I'm spending a ton of time with friends and family, and I'm also busy writing a fanfic for my friend's christmas present, so I'm not spending as much time writing this as I'd like. Don't worry, though, I haven't given it up and I'm not getting bored with it. I'm actually getting more excited - next chapter is pretty fucking important/exciting.  
> Thank you all for reading and leaving such nice comments!

You grin at John over your cup of coffee.

He's been home for two days, and you've barely left his side. You can't believe how much you missed him. The air around you felt empty, without him there.

But you do have to have a talk.

You told him you loved him.

Casually, and over the phone, but you said it. And he said it back. 

He sits down across from you and takes an enormous sip of his coffee. He winces.

"You okay?"

"I forgot it was hot."

The corner of your mouth twitches. "John, can we talk?"

"Yeah, sure. About what?" For a moment, he actually looks interested, before something clicks in his head. His look changes to one of weariness.

"Listen, ah, we've been... together for what, a month now? And I just want to know where we stand. What  _we_ are."

"What do you mean?"

"Are we dating? Can I refer to you as my boyfriend?"

He blushes.

You've made it your mission in life to make him blush.

"Um, I... I think so," he says uncertainly. "I mean... yeah."

"Well-articulated," you tease. His blush deepens. You frown. "I don't think we've ever been on an actual date."

He shakes his head. 

You wrack your brain for - of course! How did it even take you this long to figure it out? "We should go see a movie. In a movie theater, not just here. If you think you can stay awake, that is."

His face lights up, and he actually claps to show his approval. "Yes! Yeah! Of course I can stay awake! I only fall asleep _here_ because the couch is comfy and you make a good pillow."

You reach across the table to whack him.

You take him out that afternoon - what's the point in waiting, when you're at his house all the time anyway?

He manages to stay awake. 

You have to admit you're impressed.

 

Time doesn't seem to move properly after that. You blink, and it's Valentine's Day and you're taking John out for a movie and dinner, and he's grinning at you from across a candlelit table, laughing about how strange it is to wear nice clothing while you die a little death because shit does he look good in a tux. You blink again and it's Easter, and the two of you spend the day munching on chocolate and questioning the purpose behind the rabbit and the eggs, and their relationship to Jesus Christ. Suddenly, it's April Fool's Day, and you spend the whole day avoiding (and falling prey to) all manner of strange traps and pranks, most involving buckets of water, one involving an entire bottle of lube over your head and one involving far too much pepper in his pasta - that day ended in shower sex, John giggling as he worked the lube out of your hair and rubbed it on your dick. It's May, and John is dragging you to the park, tilting his head back as he swings, his face bathed in sunlight, eyes closed. 

And you hate time, you hate everything about it, you hate that it passes. You only have one guaranteed year with John before he leaves, and you don't know what's going to happen after that, because for the first time in you're life you're spending prolonged periods of time outside of Hell and Hell begins to draw you back after you've been away for a few days. It doesn't do that to other demons - Karkat hasn't been back into Hell in a week - but it always pulls you back in. It exerts a force over you greater than anything John could ever hope to exert over you. Roxy gently pointed out that you are the Prince, and that if anything happened to her, you would have to be there to run Hell in her place; therefore, Hell itself won't let you leave.

She's right.

That doesn't mean you're happy.

It means that your time with John is going to end soon.

You've mostly reconciled yourself with that idea. 

Mostly.

John's started complaining that you're leaving bruises in visible places when you have sex.

You did your best to scale back, and he's stopped complaining, but you can't seem to stop entirely. You want to leave yourself on him, you want him to take some part of you with him when he goes, as though somehow, that will allow you yourself to go with him. 

You want yourself not to just be a strange memory. You don't want to be just that dude he spent a year with, when he's eighty and thinking back on his life. But you don't know how to become someone other than that. 

He's going to move on, and hundreds of years from now, you'll still be wandering around this town, in the same ageless body, seeing him in everything and unable to go anywhere near his house without having an emotional breakdown. 

Suddenly, it's June, and John is pulling you down for a fierce kiss before saying goodbye. You're not going back to his house tomorrow, or the day after; his sister and her friend are coming to stay for a few days, and he's spending tomorrow with them. The day after is his dance recital. The ticket for that is in your pocket. 

You haven't even made it to the road when John crashes into you, wrapping his arms around you in the tightest hug he's ever given you. You return the hug, pulling him against you tightly, as though that will prevent him from leaving you. When he mutters "I'm going to miss you," you almost think you hear your own pain in his voice, as though he too is an ageless demon who will exist forever apart from you. 

But you're just imagining things. Probably because you want him to understand. You want 'goodbye' to mean the same thing to him as it does to you.

But he's human and not tied to one place, and even if he's sad at the prospect of your separation, it will only last a few decades for him.

You stay home the next day, stalking around the levels of Hell, refusing to acknowledge the existence of any of the screaming souls around you. You could probably talk to them, but you don't want to; it makes you angry. And if the volume of your voice surpasses a certain level, it causes the souls further pain, an excrutiating, indescribable pain, nothing like what even the most evil soul feels. 

You should probably be okay with that, but you're not. If they needed to be punished more than they are already, they would be, and you see no reason to increase their pain.

Roxy feels the same. She never raises her voice, keeping it at a conversational volume at all times. Your yell only affects souls if you're down in the levels of Hell; Roxy could scream in Heaven and the souls in Hell would feel it. You might be their Prince, but she's their Queen, and while your yell causes pain, hers causes the pain of emptiness, as though the souls are floating in a void and are a void, as though they have consciousness but no existence, a pain far worse than anything you can cause.

The day after that, you leave Hell half an hour earlier than you need to; you don't want to meet John's sister dressed in your usual shitty clothing. So after you walk through the door and feel your humanoid body settle over you, you head upstairs into the room with the wardrobe, an enormous dresser filled with spare clothing for those demons who have to wear something special for whatever reason - in other words, Karkat is not Hell's biggest fan, and enjoys getting away when he can, sometimes to New York to see a play, not that he'd ever admit it. 

You dig through the wardrobe and in the back, in the very back, behind literally everything, you find a pair of black pants and a white polo in your size. You change quickly and examine yourself in the mirror.

You pop your collar and put on your shades.

You look like a douche. 

You don't look too bad with the collar down, though, so you keep it. 

For the first time in your entire life, you take the car, mentally apologizing to Karkat and hoping he didn't have any plans for today. The school in which John is performing is an entire town over, and there's no way you're walking.

You arrive at the school and find your way to the auditorium, and are guided to your seat by a very nice lady who wished you a good show. 

You look around as the audience fills up, but you don't see anyone that you would instantly peg as John's sister. You stop looking after a little while; you'll see her after the show. You flick through the program they gave you, listing all the dances and the dancers in the dances. John's dance is towards the end, so that parents don't have to wait to watch their kids.

You sit through all the dances and clap politely, but a good portion of them are little kids who have no idea what they're doing and are staring at a teacher offstage. Plenty of the dances are done by the competitive team, made up of incredible dancers, but none of them are John, and impressive as they are, you haven't seen John in a day and a half - last night's dream didn't count - and you really just want to see his face and his smile and his eyes and hear his voice, even though you won't be able to do that while he's onstage.

You're going to be a wreck when he leaves.

But finally, finally, the curtain closes for the last time before his dance. Your knee shakes as you wait in the darkness. You take your shades off so you can see him better - it's not like anyone'll be looking at your eyes, it's really too dark in the auditorium.

The curtain opens and the lights come up, and there he is, wearing who-cares-what because you aren't even paying attention, you're just drinking in the sight of his face, and he starts dancing, and of course he's the best one in the class, you never even considered the idea that he might not be. His turns are the best, his leaps are the best, his lifts are the best, his form is the best. He's the best.

When the lights switch off and the curtains close over his face, you replace your shades and wait three dances until the show is over.

You get stuck behind the crowds, and don't get out until the show's been over for a good five minutes at least. You look around, but can't see John. You see Aradia jump into Sollux's arms, but no John. Kanaya is walking out the door with someone who looks like a heavily tattooed clone of herself, but no John.

You pull out your phone to text him, and find that you've already got a text from him: _Hey Dirk! I'm not there anymore, my sister's a little claustrophobic and she's so pregnant she doesn't want to be away from home for too long, so we're heading home. Please meet us there? I can't wait to see you!! I really hope you check your phone soon, I don't want you to stand there and wait for forever. I love you!!! <3_

You can't help but grin. John texts the way he speaks: spewing out things that make no sense and using way too many exclamation marks. You pocket your phone and look up, and suddenly understand why he mentioned her claustrophobia: the room outside the auditorium is packed, jammed wall-to-wall with kids and parents and family members and costumes. You can't imagine being claustrophobic and stuck in here.

You make your way through the crowds and out to the car, where you manage to get out of the parking lot surprisingly fast. You're five minutes away from John's house when you spot his Challenger ahead of you, going precisely the speed limit despite the car's capability - exactly the reason why, whenever you go out with John,  _you_ drive. But you remain behind him, at a safe distance, not wanting to make a bad impression on his sister. 

John pulls into his driveway and you park on the street, precisely six inches away from the curb, so perfect it looks like you actually passed your driver's test. You get out of the car and see John mirror your grin, and you feel at home for the first time since you left.

John's sister gets out of the passenger seat.

You recognize her.

And your stomach drops.


	16. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically the same as the last chapter, but from John's point of view, and longer, and with way more information. So nothing like the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The page kept refreshing and I lost my work three different times. The beginning is short because I got pissed and refused to rewrite everything a fourth time.

Jade didn't even say hi to you when she walked in the door; she asked where the bathroom was.

Calliope gave you a hug as Jade waddled off in the direction of the toilet. "Babies push down on the bladder. Jade has to pee every ten minutes."

Jade hugged you too when she got out, but you were terrified; she looked like she swallowed a planet, and you didn't want to break the planet.

You spent the day in town, Jade flatly refusing to enter an establishment unless it had a bathroom. She didn't drink any coffee, either, saying that coffee made her pee way too often even when she wasn't pregnant, and that if she drank some now there would be no point in her ever leaving the bathroom, because she would just have to go right back in.

Calliope grinned at you when Jade snapped at you for asking about the father of the child as she hobbled off to a bathroom. "She's nervous. She confided in a friend of mine back in Texas, who agreed to do an ultrasound with the full expectation of an abnormal baby. The baby looks human, but we're pretty sure it has wings. I have no idea how she's going to give birth to it - if the wings will get in the way, if the wings will make things easier, if she'll need a C-Section, or what. She's under lots of pressure and she's scared."

"Nothing bad will happen. My dad won't  _let_ anything bad happen."

Calliope grimaced. "Jade said the same thing up until a month ago, when she said that if your father had been watching over her, she wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place."

The next day, you scramble around your bedroom hunting down pieces of your costume. You  _really_ should have kept it all together in a costume bag, like your teacher suggested, but at the time you didn't see the point.

You make it to the school on time and in costume, however, and Jade works out an agreement with the ticket collectors so that she doesn't have to go in until right before your dance goes on, so she can stay near a bathroom. Calliope promises to text Jade before you go on so that she can get in on time. 

You wait nervously with your class. Aradia checks her phone continuously. "What are you doing?" You ask curiously.

"I keep forgetting I can't text Sollux. It would be rude of him to take his phone out during the show."

You feel strangely proud of yourself. They met at your Christmas party. For some reason, they remind you of yourself and Dirk. It's nice to see them happy, living a normal human life, safe in the knowledge that if they decide to, they can probably spend the rest of their lives together.

Sometimes, usually when you're not with him, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to spend the rest of your life with Dirk, and something inside you loosens. It would be easier to spend time apart from him if every second didn't count. But it does. You still have a few months left, but considering how quickly these past few months have gone by, they won't last long. 

Sometimes, you wonder what will happen at the end of the year, when it's time for you to leave. Will Dirk ask to come with you? There's not a doubt in your mind that, if you were human and moving someplace on Earth, you would beg him to come, get down on your knees and plead with him to come with you. But he can't go to Heaven yet - you won't let him die, even if he would end up in Heaven, even if Heaven is a wonderful place, you can't bring yourself to cut his life short for your own sake, you won't do it - and you can't stay on Earth forever. A year is pushing it, for the Heir to the Throne of Heaven. Heaven will want you back, badly, by the time you leave Earth. You'll have to leave, and you'll have to watch him go about his life, move on, watch him pray - and the day-to-day prayers will come to you - and you'll have to answer or reject his prayers, watch him fall in love with someone else, watch yourself become just the guy who lived in that house where Dirk spent a year when he was younger. And when he dies, when his soul finds its way to Heaven, he will probably be in love with someone else, want to spend eternity with someone else. And you'll have to watch him and his lover for all eternity, an angel stuck in a home that belongs to the souls of humans, without anyone to love or be loved by. 

Dirk started biting during sex. He left visible marks. People in your dance class started asking about them. You made up some story about volunteering at a pet shelter that has a nippy dog, and asked Dirk to stop. He scaled back, but slipped up every so often. You don't mind, strangely enough. Sometimes, you feel that if he leaves enough of himself on you, you can take him with you when you go. 

Kanaya taps you on the shoulder. "John? Are you all right?"

You nod and grin at her. "Yeah. Just a little nervous, y'know." The word slips out and your heart twists. It's Dirk's word. It's what Dirk says when he doesn't really want to explain something to you. He's stopped saying it half as much; you've started avoiding certain topics, like his family, and going over his house. You want to know what he's not telling you, but you don't want to push - you'll only be around for another few months, and you don't want him to spill his secrets to someone who's leaving soon - and also, you're worried that if you push,  _he'll_ push, and you'll be stuck lying to him, and you don't want to do that.

"This will be your first time on stage, will it not?" She asks.

"Yep."

"It's perfectly normal to be nervous. I was terrified, the first time I went on stage."

"How old were you?"

"Two years old."

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because she smiles and says, "I started young."

"No kidding."

Twenty minutes later, you're called backstage. You bounce on your toes, trying to take deep breaths, because you might have been lying earlier about being nervous, but now you really  _are_ nervous, and you've started going over the dance in your head, and you know Dirk and Jade and Calliope are in the audience by now and they'll all be watching you, and even though that should make you more nervous, somehow the nerves drain away. It doesn't matter how badly you do; Jade will fly at you - or waddle, considering her current size - and wrap you in a hug, and Dirk will grin at you, the way he grins at only you - because no one else has ever gotten that grin, ever, you've watched him in public and he doesn't smile like that at anyone - and he'll think you were the best. Calliope will be too polite to say anything mean, even if you  _do_ do badly. 

So it's all right. The only three people you're worried about will think you're great no matter what.

The curtains close and the stage is dimly lit by backlights. Dancers run offstage, already pulling off their costumes - you're pretty sure they're part of the competitive team, and their dance is the last in the show, and therefore exactly four dances from now - and your class rushes on and takes their place.

The curtains open, the lights snap on, blinding you, and the music starts, and you're not quite sure what's going on but you're dancing, in any case, and suddenly you're doing the lifts, which means that the dance is almost over, and then the dance  _is_ over, and you're holding your final pose as the lights go down and the curtains close and you have no idea what on Earth just happened, but your teacher is grinning and patting you on the back and saying you did great, so you decide to take her word for it.

You change and run out to wait for the show to finish and the doors to open, and you sit in silence, wondering who will come out first, Jade and Calliope or Dirk, and when the doors open, it's Jade who comes out, Calliope right at her side, but Jade doesn't look happy, she looks terrified and angry. 

She grabs your arm and drags you outside. "I saw someone in there - I thought I recognized him - a demon - I don't know - I didn't get a clear look at his face - but I have a bad feeling, a really bad feeling, can we please go home?"

"Dirk -" you begin, but she cuts you off.

"Text him. Tell him - I don't know, tell him the crowds made me claustrophobic, tell him I don't want to be away from home for this long, it doesn't matter, just get us out of here."

"It probably wasn't a demon, you probably just  _thought_ you saw -"

"I know, I know, and it's impossible, but  _please_ , John,  _please_ , just in case, can we get out of here  _now_?"

You shoot off a text to Dirk and pull out of the parking lot, watching Jade's eyes flicker over every single person that exits the school. 

You're five minutes away from your house when Jade whispers, "Someone's following us."

You glance in your rearview mirror and see a car, but it's too far away for you to make out the driver. "It's probably just Dirk."

"Is it normal to drive that far away from the car in front of you?"

You laugh. "He probably doesn't want to risk hitting the Challenger. He loves this car. He also thinks I drive it too slowly." You take care to go precisely the speed limit, mostly to annoy Dirk. You smile in anticipation of how he'll tease you about having a car that can go 180 miles per hour without even breaking a sweat, and how you waste its potential by going the speed limit. Privately, you agree with him, but you'll never admit it.

You pull into your driveway and Dirk parks on the street. You get out of the car faster than you ever have in your life, an enormous grin on your face that mirrors Dirk's grin when he exits the car.

Your sister growls, low in her throat.

She  _growled_.

Your  _sister_ _._

The smile falls off of Dirk's face. 

You look at your sister. Her face is a mask of hatred and anger and terror, three emotions that should never play over an angel's face. "John? I want you to go inside."

"What? Jade, no, that's  _Dirk_ , that's my  _boyfriend_ , he's perfectly nice - Dirk?" Your voice shrinks. Dirk is baring his teeth, he's  _baring_ his  _teeth_ , and you can't see his eyes but you know he's glaring, he's glaring at your sister, and you're scared, you're terrified, "Dirk, what's going on, what -"

"That's your  _sister_?" He hisses.

"Yeah, Jade, my sister, why, what's going on -"

"John,  _get inside_ ," Jade says, and it's not a request anymore, it's a command, but you don't care.

"No, not until I know what's going on -"

"John, that is the _Prince of Hell_!" Jade shrieks, and Dirk's not denying it, but he's looking at you now, and you want to rip the shades off his face and look at his eyes because his face is blank now, entirely blank, but he's not good at hiding emotion in his eyes, he counts on his shades to do that for him, and if you take off his shades you can see  _everything_ , and you know that because you've been dating him for months now,  _months_ , he  _can't_ be the Prince of Hell, there's no way -

"John?" He asks, and you don't understand how his voice can be quiet and still carry, but it does. 

"Yes?"

"Don't  _talk_ to him, don't you talk to him," Jade is yelling, but you don't know which one of you she's yelling at and it doesn't matter because you're talking to Dirk, your boyfriend, the only person you've ever loved, the person you trusted with everything except your heritage and now, now he knows -

"Are you the Heir?"

And you don't want to answer, you don't want to be the Heir, you don't want to be an angel, and you can feel tears streaming down your cheeks because you knew that being an angel would end your relationship but you never imagined it would end like this, and you're nodding, and in the split second after your head moves you see a world of emotions playing over his face and you can't identify a single one of them, and then his face is blank again and he's looking at Jade, and you want to run down and grab him, shake him, force a denial out of him, make him say he's not the Prince of Hell, make him say he's not a demon, you want to hug him and kiss him and you want to tackle him to the ground and punch him for not telling you, you hate yourself for not figuring it out, you hate yourself for going to the bar that night and you hate him for being nice enough to take you home and you hate him for coming back the next day and you hate yourself for inviting him in and you love him, you love him, you love him, you don't want him to go, but you never want to see his face again, and you  _definitely_ never want to see his face like  _this_ again, hiding everything he is, making him look evil, making him look inhuman, like a demon in a human body, and oh, oh no, you had sex with a demon, you had sex with the  _Prince of Hell_ , and he's hissing words you can't hear, spitting venom at your sister, and she's yelling words you can't comprehend, ripping apart your lover, and Dirk is getting in his car and his car is gone, and Jade and Calliope are dragging you inside, and there's a whole host of Earthbound in there, and you're suddenly grateful that your neighborhood is made up of Earthbound and not real humans because someone would have called the police on you, and some part of you knows that would be bad.

You're sitting on your couch and there's a cup of tea in your hands and the Earthbound are gone and Jade is sitting next to you, but you don't remember how or when any of it happened, and you're on the wrong side of the couch anyway, you should be on the  _other_ side, you're sitting in Dirk's spot - the Prince of Hell has a spot on your couch, and that strikes you as funny, for some reason, and your laughter shakes you, and you almost spill the tea, but that wouldn't be good so you stop laughing. 

You can't breathe.

"John? John, are you all right?"

You understand that Jade has been repeating those words, with increasing fear and anxiety, for quite some time now.

You shouldn't stress her out any more. She's already pregnant with a half-human baby.

"No."

You sense that that was the wrong answer. When people ask you if you're all right, you're supposed to say yes, you're supposed to save them the trouble of asking you what's wrong.

But you can't lie. Not to Jade.

You hear her take a deep breath, relieved at the sound of your voice. "I thought I was going to have to take you to the hospital or something," she says shakily. 

You shake your head, slowly. "No. That won't be necessary."

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Did D - did  _he_ ever hurt you?"

"You know his name?" You're not going to pretend you didn't catch that slip.

"Yes. For one thing, you said it a lot, and for another thing, yes - the Prince of Hell's name is Dirk Strider. The Queen of Hell is named Roxy Lalonde."

"I met her. Roxy. She was nice. A little overbearing, but nice." The full impact of what you're saying hits you, but it hits you like you're wearing three feet of padding. You had the Queen of Hell in your house. You fed her Thanksgiving dinner.

You can feel Jade's shock and terror coming off of her in waves, but when she speaks, she's calm. She's much better in an emergency than you are. "John, I need you to tell me if either of them ever hurt you."

You shake your head. Your mind flies to the marks, the bites and bruises all over your body, but those don't count. He stopped when you asked him to stop. They weren't meant to hurt - not badly, at least. And you don't want to show them to Jade. You don't want her to know about them. They're the last part of him you have, and even though you don't want him anymore you do, you want him, you want him back, Prince of Hell or not. But you don't ever want to see him again. You've decided that. Even though you're dying to see him one more time, just once, you never want to see him again. 

Jade sighs in relief. "Was he ever mean to you? Verbally?"

"N-no." You decide that the teasing was all teasing, just normal, stupid, good-spirited teasing. Sollux said more mean things than Dirk ever did.

You decide you're not going to think his name anymore. It makes you sad.

"I  _knew_ I saw him," she mutters to herself. "In the auditorium. I thought I was going insane. But I was right." She shakes her head. "What's Dad  _doing_? Why didn't he take you away? Why did he put you here in the first place? Why -" She gasps and presses a hand to her stomach.

Calliope shoots to her feet. "Is it time?"

"No, no," Jade shakes her head. "Just a kick." 

"How did you know it was him?" You ask, staring into your tea. It's a pleasant amber color, but too dark to remind you of anyone or their orange eyes. Tea is nice. It doesn't destroy everything you built your life around.

"I was in Texas with him, remember? When I first came down to Earth, I was in Texas for three months before I found out the Prince of Hell was right around the corner. Actually,  _he_ found  _me_ \- we used to go to the same bar. Never talked too much, but I was happy to have him sit next to me - he never came on to me, never even talked to me, actually. I think he sat next to me for the same reasons. But one day, I left the bar a couple seconds earlier than he did. I was crossing the road and a car ran a red light. I'd have died, but Dad intervened and put me on the sidewalk. The Prince was right behind me, and he saw everything. He came up to me and, casually as you please, said the first damn words I'd ever heard come out of his mouth: "You're the fucking Heir of Heaven, aren't you." He shook my hand and introduced himself as "Dirk Strider, Prince of Hell, nice to meet you, get out of my town."" She shivers. "I think that was the most terrifying moment of my life. I said no, though, I told him I wasn't going anywhere, that he had better leave if he wanted to keep existing. I ran all the way home. 

"Dad moved me, though. I was in Africa by the next morning. Apparently, they don't get to Earth the same way we do; they have to go through a door, this enormous, ancient door, that allows them to have a humanoid body, and moving it is nearly impossible. They can't stay on Earth for more than twenty-four hours."

"No, that's not right," you correct her absentmindedly. "He's been staying with me for days at a clip since Christmas."

Her entire body stiffens. "He's been - what?"

"He's been staying with me for days at a clip since Christmas," you repeat. "He didn't stay that long before Christmas, though, only overnight. Maybe he figured out how to stay on Earth for longer periods of time. And I guess they did manage to move that door, eventually."

"He's been staying in this house for extended periods of time?" Jade asks in a monotone voice.

You nod.

Calliope springs to her feet and is running around the house, opening cupboards and closets. You hear her in your room, rummaging through your wardrobe. "What is she doing?" You ask.

"Making sure the Prince didn't leave anything behind."

Calliope comes running out of your room, a shirt in her hand. She holds it up and you feel your heart crumble to pieces. "John? Is this yours?"

You shake your head. "He started leaving clothing here. Why? Why does it matter?"

"We don't want him to come back for anything. We don't want him to have a reason to come back inside. We're going to need to leave anyway - there's no way we'll still be here come morning - but still. We don't want him to come back before then."

Calliope comes out with half your wardrobe in her arms. She makes you tell her what's his and what's yours. When you've got it all sorted out, she brings it outside. You watch her out the window. She leaves it in a neat pile on the sidewalk and hurries back inside.

"Why are we leaving?" You ask.

"Dad won't let us stay here." She's looking at Calliope. "I don't know where he'll bring us."

"I'm coming," Calliope says immediately. "I don't care how far away it is."

You're reminded of your own fear, that Di - no, you're not thinking his name - that  _he_ would want to come with you when you left. 

You wonder if Jade and Calliope are really just friends.

If not, they're lucky. Calliope is human, at least. 

"I don't want to leave."

Jade hugs you and rests her head on your shoulder. "I know."

You stare out the window. 

Somehow, Jade and Calliope don't disappear. Dirk doesn't appear in their place. Time doesn't reverse. 

Your tea grows cold.


	17. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk's feelings on the separation.

You stumble out of the car with no memory of driving home. 

When you throw the door open, Karkat is there - "Yo, fuckface, you could have told me you were taking the -"

You throw the keys at him. "Take it."

He doesn't say anything back, for once in his God-forsaken life. 

You shove the door open with force enough to break a normal door, and feel the moment of pain before your humanoid disappears, and that's it, you're never going to see it again, you're never going back up to Earth, never, you can't believe you took the time to look nice, you don't even want to think about all the time you spent - no - all the time you  _wasted_  up there, the time you wasted with  _him_ , that lying bastard - 

No, but you can't even blame him. You remember the look on his face when Jade recognized you, and it was shock, it was, it was shock, he had no idea who you were. He didn't hurt you on purpose.

No, you blame his _F_ _ather_ , the  _douchebag_ who managed to make the same fucked-up mistake twice, who despite his omnipotence managed to drop both his kids right around the corner from the portal between Hell and Earth, who saw his son talking to you and didn't do jack shit to stop it, and -

"Dirk? What's going on?"

"He's the Heir," you snarl, and you see fear cross Roxy's face, fear that should  _never_ cross her face, she's the  _Queen of Hell_ , she shouldn't  _feel_ fear, but she does, because of that  _jackass_ up in the sky - 

"What?"

"He's the Heir!" You scream, and it's loud - louder than it should have been - and then you realize why: the souls underneath you have fallen silent, have ceased their screaming, you can practically hear them praying to the fuckface upstairs,  _Don't let the Prince come down here, don't let the Queen scream, don't punish us more, please,_ and for the first time in your cursed, demonic life, you're considering it, you're considering going downstairs and yelling, screaming, letting everyone know, the Prince of Hell is powerful and he is angry, angry and in pain, so much pain -

"Who is?" Roxy asks, and her voice is calm, so calm, why is it calm - 

"John," you whisper.

"John is the Heir? We're talking about the same person, right? The person you spent nine months with? The person you slept with on a regular basis? Whose house you practically lived in?  _That_ John?"

"Yes."

"Dirk, you need to calm down."

Why is she saying that, you're calm, you're perfectly calm, you're shaking because - you're cold - wait - that's actually true - something about that strikes you as strange - you're not supposed to be cold, you're sitting two feet above Hell - 

"Dirk. Are they coming down here?"

"I don't know, I don't know, fuck, I don't know anything, I'm useless, I didn't notice, I should have noticed and I should have run, why on Earth did I go to that bar, why did I take him home, why did I go back the next day, what possessed me to do that, why did I do that, why didn't I see, why didn't I know, I should have known, he looks just like her, exactly like her, the same skin, the same hair, the same buckteeth, they even have the same fucking  _smile_ , why didn't I know -"

"Who? Who's 'her'?"

"Jade, his sister, he talked about her all the time, he even said her name once and I didn't pick up on it, why didn't I notice," and you feel it, you feel that feeling that you've only ever heard of, a lump in your throat, but it doesn't matter, you can't cry, you're a fucking demon and your body can't even cry, why are you a demon -

"Jade is here?" 

There's panic in her voice, Roxy shouldn't have to panic, the two of you shouldn't be stuck here, not even exerting your power over the souls under your control, you should rule, you should - you should tear down Heaven, tear it down so John is stuck here, forever, with you - no, you don't want that, you can't do that, how could you ever  _think_ of hurting him - you wish you could cry, you wish you could cry like he did, you saw him crying and every particle that made up both your demonic body and your humanoid body wanted to run to him, to wrap your arms around him, to hold him and wipe away his tears, but you stood there, and he stood there, and the distence between the two of you grew to an immeasurable length that you hadn't expected to exist until he left at the end of his year - you were trying so hard, so hard, to hold on to every second of this year, every single one, because it would all end soon, and you didn't even get a year, you didn't even get that, and you didn't even get a bittersweet parting - there was no happiness, there was nothing okay about that, you should hate him, you should but you can't, he's a part of your bitter rival, the people you refuse to associate with on principle, but you can't, you - you're a demon, you shouldn't be able to, but you do, you love him, and you don't even have a problem admitting it - 

"Dirk! Dirk!"

Roxy's voice is quiet and terrified, and now it's you that's causing that fear - why does your face hurt?

Roxy is holding a shirt, why does she even have a shirt, what is she doing, why is she wiping your face?

"Dirk?"

"Am I crying?" Your voice sounds strange, it's cracking, it doesn't sound like yours, it sounds like it's coming from a mile away -

"Yes. You need to stop, our skin isn't made for water, you're hurting yourself, please stop, I don't even - you shouldn't be able to cry - it must be something to do with how recently you dropped the humanoid - water retention might be a side-effect -" she's begging you, she shouldn't do that, why is she doing that? 

You take the shirt from her and push it to your own face. It smells familiar, it smells wonderful. Your entire body relaxes. You're home.

It smells like John.

You throw it, as far as you can, scrambling backwards, away from it, you can't go near it, if you smell it you're going to go running back to his house and beg him to kill you, you're going to beg him to call God down and have God kill you, because you can't handle this, you can't, you want to be with him, to feel him and smell him and hear his voice, and you can't, he's an angel and you're a demon and you're both probably equally strong but you can never, ever talk to him again, ever, because you're separated by what is inherent to you each and you need him, you didn't expect this, you couldn't even prepare for it, not even subconsciously - 

"Dirk?"

"What?" 

"Is Jade here?"

You nod. You remember seeing her get out of the car, seeing her face, unchanged in spite of the years that had passed, and the instant realization that everything was wrong, that you were about to splinter, that you would never be whole again, because the part of you that had done the impossible and loved someone would be gone.

"Why?"

"Pregnant. Her friend is a midwife. Wanted to be up here instead of in Texas, just in case. It's probably a weird baby. It's half human."

You can practically feel her inner scientist waking up, but a different question than the one you expected comes out of her mouth: "It's strange, isn't it? That the Lord put both of his kids right around the corner from the entrance to Hell? Why did he let you spend nine months with his son? Why would he do that? I'm not his biggest fan, but usually, the things he does make some sort of sense. This? This makes  _no_ sense."

"Yes it does."

"What?"

"It does."

You can see her frowning out of the corner of your eye. She doesn't see it yet. But to you, it makes perfect sense - it's perfect, it's clear as day, incredible, and if it hadn't happened to you, you'd be impressed by it.

"How on Earth -"

"Get me off the surface."

"What?"

"Think about it. How much damage have I caused in my time on Earth? A shitload. Nothing during the last nine months, but before that? Every time I went up on Earth I made shit happen. And there is no way, no way, that I'm ever, ever, going up there again."

"What?"

"I can't. I can't do it, Roxy. I can't go back. He'll be able to see me, if I'm on Earth, he'll be able to watch me, and I'll never be able to see him, I can't, Roxy, it'll kill me -" and now you're thinking about it, thinking about what you'd been avoiding, the idea that you might see him again but never be able to talk to him, joke with him, make him laugh, blush, talk, ramble, sigh, moan,  _nothing -_ you won't be able to - you'll have to treat him like you didn't spend the most important part of your life with him, the part that made you something other than a demon, the part that made you worthy of something better - 

"Dirk, where are you going?" Roxy asks in a calm, measured tone. 

"Down."

"Dirk -"

"Please, please don't try to stop me," you say, because this is something you have to do - you have to make them pray, all of them, you have to make them scream their pain to the one who put them here, you  _need_ them to scream, because maybe, just maybe, some of that will get through to the Heir, and you don't want to cause him pain or make him feel guilty, you don't want him to feel their pain, but you - you don't even know - you want to - communicate with him, one last time, you want him to know you're thinking about him, that you didn't just leave, that you didn't just give up and run away, that you didn't want to go, and you pull yourself away from Roxy's restraining hands and nearly fall over, but you make it down the stairs into the levels of Hell, and you scream, you scream all of your pain into the pit, you fall to your hands and knees and keep screaming, and your scream is amplified by the souls around you, in more pain than they've ever been put through, because of you, you're causing them pain, and you stop screaming, you don't want to cause them more pain, that was wrong, but you don't move. You can't move. 

You remember - not long after you met John - he had his first dance class. You went over to his house the next day and when he finally answered the door, he flatly refused to move. You practically carried him to the bathroom, laughing the whole way.

You're having trouble breathing. 


	18. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John figures out literally everything.

You set your mug down on the coffee table. You're not drinking it and it's not warm anymore. 

Jade and Calliope are communicating wordlessly, with strange eye movements and twitches and glances at you. They're worried. You don't know why. You'll do what you're told. You'll go in the direction in which you're pointed. You'll do your job as the Heir.

Except for one thing.

You're not going to do anything involving Hell. You can't see down there and you flatly refuse to have any dealings with them. Jade can do that. You trust her. And you're not going anywhere near there. You flatly refuse to have talks with Roxy, avoid asking her about  _him_ , act like you hate her, because you don't. And you will not, will  _not_ , risk seeing  _him_ , talking to  _him_ , having to work with  _him_ , because if you can't handle Roxy there's no way you'll be able to handle  _him_ , you can't do it, you can't even think his name. It's too much, too much, you won't be able to look at him, wearing his shades, and not rip them off his face. You won't be able to keep a blank face like he will, like you know he can. 

Your hand has barely left the mug when you hear it - feel it - hear-feel it - it doesn't matter, it's a scream, it's pain and anger and need and prayer and you're not sitting down anymore, Calliope and Jade are grabbing at you, holding you back, but you can't see, tears are streaming down your face and Jade's saying words, what is she saying - 

"John, John, what are you doing, John, where are you going, John, sit down, John, John -"

" _Dirk -_ " His name tears itself out of you in a ragged sob, bypassing all of your resolve not to say his name.

"What about him? What about Dirk? What's going on? Is he here?"

You pull yourself forward, but pregnancy hasn't sapped any of Jade's strength, and Calliope is much stronger than she appears, and they're holding you back, stopping you from running out the door, but you have to get out there, you have to find Dirk, he's in pain, you have to stop him from being in pain, you're the cause of it, he's not allowed to feel pain -

"John, is he here? What's going on? Oh, for the love of Dad -" she and Calliope simultaneously wrap an arm around your stomach, and you stop fighting, you want to get to Dirk but there's a baby in your sister's stomach and you can't hurt it, you don't know very much but you know that, and you let them dump you back on the couch. "John. What on Earth is going on?"

"I don't know, but Dirk is in pain, I need to help him -"

"How can you possibly know that? We can't see into Hell, and you've still got a humanoid body -"

But you're shaking your head. "I didn't hear him, I heard  _them_ , the souls in Hell, hurting - it's - his yell - it hurts them - they're praying, and I'm on Earth but I'm still the Heir, I still get some prayers, especially the ones nearby, I heard it, I felt it, he's in pain, I have to -"

"You don't have to do anything. Do you understand what you're  _saying_?" And now Jade is getting hysterical, yelling, Calliope is trying to calm her down but it's not working - "The souls in Hell are getting punished in precisely the way that fits their crime, the exact amount of punishment they deserve, and he's increasing it, he's hurting them, for no reason - that's evil, John, that's evil, it's cruelty for cruelty's sake, why would you go to him, why would you even want to? What do you think you're going to do?"

You're shaking your head again. "It was only for a second, I've never felt it before, it was quick, maybe the first time he's ever done it, I think - I think he knew it would get to me - he's not evil, Jade, he's not, I've spent months with him and I know that, and maybe I didn't know he was the Prince of Hell but I know everything else, I know he's good, he is, I don't care who he is or who his father is, it doesn't mean he's the same - he's different, I swear, and I - I can't let him - I have to - I need -" You're choking on tears again, you can't get words out but you know you need to get to him, you have to find him and hold him and stop him from yelling, make him feel better, you need him in your arms, you have to -

"Well, you can't go. I know it's horrible and I know you thought you loved him, but -"

"No, no, I love him, present tense, now, today, this moment, what's wrong with me going, why can't I go -"

"John I want you to be happy but you can't go! Dirk Strider might be charming but he's not a good person, that's literally impossible -"

"Wait - what if -" Your mind is moving at top speed, trying to find a way to convince her - "What if - okay. I don't know where he lives. But - what if - I ask Dad where the entrance to Hell is? If Dad tells me, it's because it's okay for us to go, and if not, then I'll shut up, I'll stay here, I won't ask again, I won't even complain -"

"Dad hasn't exactly been helpful recently -"

"He won't hurt us, he won't purposefully show us the way to evil and pain, he loves us, and it's confusing but he wouldn't do this. Please, Jade? Please?"

She heaves a sigh, an angry frown making her face its home. "Fine. But we're coming with you if you go. Or, I can't speak for Callie, but -"

"If you go, I go," Calliope says firmly.

You nod. "All right. Here goes." You close your eyes and focus. "Dad, if it's safe, I need -" And there they are, unfurling themselves in your mind, the exact route you have to take - "I know where it is. We're going." You stand and wipe your eyes. "Jade, do you need to go to the bathroom?"

You've never seen such an angry expression on Jade's face in your life, but she heads for the bathroom without a word.

Calliope glares at you. "If you're wrong, if Jade or the baby gets hurt -"

"They won't. Dirk won't hurt them. He won't hurt anyone."

"He hurt thousands upon thousands of souls in Hell -"

"For half a second, once, to communicate with me -"

"It's a strange way of communicating -"

"It's the  _only_  way -"

Jade reenters the living room, face no less stormy for her time in the bathroom.

You almost suggest walking - it's only a mile away - but you're not going to make Jade walk. She'd kill you.

So you take the car, although you almost can't drive it because when it starts up it roars, and that roar used to make Dirk grin, he loved this car - but you swallow past the lump in your throat and pull out of the driveway, following the directions in your head, hoping that you didn't just make it up because you wanted directions, hoping -

That's Dirk's car in the driveway.

You sigh in relief.

Jade's face only becomes more terrifying as you mount the steps and ring the doorbell.

A very angry, red-eyed demon wearing a humanoid answers the door. "What the fuck are you selling, we don't - shit."

"We're here because the Heir to the Throne of Heaven wants to be, and for no other reason. If you lay a hand on any of us, I will -"

"Jade, shut up. Listen, we need to get into Hell -"

"So you're the reason why Dirk hasn't moved for twenty minutes."

"What?"

"He's sitting there on his damn hands and knees like he's a baby and can't fucking walk, and it's your fault -"

"I know, I know," and you can feel the tears coming, but you have to stop them, you can't cry now, but you're having trouble trying to talk while focusing on not crying, and words aren't coming out, but Jade pushes past you and the angry demon like her stomach isn't the size of Jupitor, and the demon doesn't stop her, only sighs and rolls his eyes as he stands back to let you in. 

"That way," he says, gesturing to his left. "And if I'm correct, that one -" he nods at Calliope - "isn't wearing a humanoid? Now, I don't know about you angelic folk, but I know for a fact that humans can't go into Hell without suffering extreme pain. I'm going to suggest that she  _not_  go in with you."

Jade turns the evil eye on him, but Calliope grabs her arm. "No, he's right. I'll stay out here." She seats herself in an armchair. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Go on, go in there." She waves you forward. 

Jade looks incredibly conflicted.

The demon rolls his eyes. "Listen - it's Jade, right? Listen. Jade. If I wanted to hurt her I'd have done it already. It's not like waiting until you're out of the room would make my punishment any less severe. Go with your brother and I'll sit here with the human."

Calliope makes shooing motions with her hands, and you don't care if Jade comes with you anymore, you trust that Calliope will be safe, and Dirk is somewhere in here, in pain, and all of the anxiety that disappeared when your Dad gave his approval has returned, because you're still not next to Dirk. "I'm going. If you want to stay with Calliope, you can stay, but I'm going."

But Jade is right next to you when you heave open the oaken door.

You can't see anything.

"Is it safe?" She mutters. "I really don't know if we're supposed to go in there - John, what are you -"

You stick your arm through.

You pull it back out.

It looks fine. "Well, if anyone's in there, they just got to see a random floating arm, which probably terrified them. And my arm looks fine. So let's  _go_." 

You step through.

Jade follows.

There's a demon standing in shocked stillness next to something that you recognize as one of your shirts, one that Dirk accidentally wore home one day. And because you're staring at the ground, you notice that the demon is wearing - shoes? "Roxy?"

Jade stiffens.

Roxy nods slowly. "John Egbert. Jade Harley."

"Roxy, is Dirk here? I need -"

She apparently understands that you're not here to cause trouble, and relief sweeps over her face. "Oh, thank - Dirk? Dirky? Come here -"

Her voice never rises, never once increases in volume, and you didn't think about it too much when she was over your house but now you understand: if she yells, she causes the souls pain. She trained herself not to raise her voice, specifically for the purpose of not hurting the souls. 

A demon stumbles around the corner, claws shrieking against the stone, but it's not just any demon, it's Dirk, you know it is, intuitively, even though he looks just like every other demon, even though his orange eyes are red and his pale skin is pink, and you don't care, it's Dirk, it's  _Dirk_ , and - there - there are - burn marks down his face? How - can demons  _get_  burned? "Dirk?" You ask, and your voice is tiny. 

He stares at you.

"What happened to your face?" And you're moving towards him with stuttering steps as you stumble across the room and put your hand up to touch his face - 

Pain blasts through you, and you think that that sound was you crying out, and you're gripping your hand and clenching your eyes shut, and you can feel Jade tugging you away but no, she shouldn't be doing that, "Jade, what are you -"

"He hurt you -" She says through gritted teeth, but no, that's wrong -

"No, it's my fault, it's -"

"No, she's right," comes a hoarse voice, and it's Dirk's, and he sinks to the floor, eyes filled with horror, and you recognize that emotion even though you shouldn't because he doesn't even have pupils in his eyes. "It's - it's because you touched me, because I'm a demon, and even though you've got - that stuff - on you - which is probably protecting you from the heat - I don't think it protects you from me, you shouldn't be near me, John, you shouldn't be anywhere near me, I'm causing you pain just by  _existing_  -"

You pull yourself away from Jade and drop to the floor next to Dirk. "No, no, you didn't know, you couldn't have known - wait. What stuff?"

He points at your skin. "That."

You examine yourself and - he's right, there's a shimmery layer of something-or-other on your skin.

You examine your hand.

It's burned, badly, but the shimmery stuff is growing back over it, healing it. "Jade, look, I'm fine, it's fine, I'm not leaving. Dirk. What happened to your face?"

He doesn't answer, just looks at you, and you can see the war in his mind, because it's the same one going through yours: get closer and get hurt, or stay safe but maintain your distence. He's not thinking about your question - he can barely work through his own.

"He cried," Roxy answers.

"What?" You can hear the confusion in Jade's voice. "Demons can cry?"

Roxy shakes her head. "No, but I'm thinking water retention might be one of the side effects of the new humanoids - maybe our bodies were dealing with it, but our skin can't handle it - kind of like how, in humans, the lining of the stomach is stronger than the skin, can withstand acid that would literally burn a hole in the human body if it weren't for that lining - but just like humans get sick and vomit, bringing that acid up their throats and burning their throats and tongues and harming their teeth, Dirky cried, and the water burned his skin."

"The new humanoids?" Jade asks, fear apparently forgotten in the face of science.

Roxy answers her, but you're not listening. You're too busy examining Dirk's face, and you know he's doing the same to yours, even though you can't tell where he's looking. 

"What are we going to do?" He whispers. "What was the point of -" he gestures at you. "Of all of this? I thought - I thought your Father did it on purpose, to kill me or - I don't know. But - to keep me from going back up to Earth, anyway. But if you're not letting me go - what -?"

You frown.

"Dirky," Roxy begins, "I don't - I don't think your theory makes sense. Or, well, it does, but only from a demon's point of view, not an angel's."

"Theory about what?" Jade asks.

"He was trying to figure out why your Father would let any of this happen in the first place, and he came to the conclusion that it was to keep him from going back up to Earth. But that - sounds like something a demon would think. It's very - self-absorbed. Selfish. It's - it assumes that the Lord cares enough about you, specifically, to waste a whole ton of his time on you, specifically. But typically, His plans are on a grander scale than that - aren't they?" She asks uncertainly.

You whip your head around. 

Jade is actually nodding. "No, you're right. But - I - I have to almost agree with - with Dirk. I don't understand the purpose of any of this either."

Roxy starts talking, but you're not paying attention. You're staring at Jade's enormous belly, womb full of a kid that could literally be born any minute now - you take a moment to pray that it doesn't come while you're in Hell - and you're staring at Roxy, the scientifically inclined Queen of Hell and self-proclaimed Rogue, and you're thinking about Jade's history with Dirk, and you're staring at Dirk, and thinking about yourself, and -

"What are you thinking?" murmurs Dirk, an almost-smile gracing his lips. "I know you're not paying any attention to Roxy."

And now you're grinning, because it makes perfect sense, it's clear as day! You can't believe you didn't see it before!

"Wait - Rox - Jade - John's smiling, something good is about to happen."

Roxy stops talking. She and Jade watch you expectantly. Dirk isn't. He's watching you excitedly, like he trusts you to have the answers - and he's right. You do. "It isn't about Dirk. It's about Heaven and Hell and Earth - connecting the three, not through power or a physical connection, but through something that Dad recognizes as a connection - through love, he's connecting us all with something that can't be broken." You point at Jade's belly. "Half-human, half-angel - a connection between Earth and Heaven, something that could never have happened between Heaven and Hell or Earth and Hell - water hurts demons, and nine months growing in it would kill a half-demon baby." You point at Dirk. "And us. Sort of - the next best thing. There's no way of getting a half-demon half-angel baby, especially from two people with male reproductive systems - so two people who will live for eternity falling in love is really the best that can be hoped for." You're grinning now, and Jade is grinning, and Roxy is grinning, but Dirk isn't. "What's wrong?"

"So what you're saying is, the only reason we're together is - because your Dad decided on it?"

The grin slides off your face. Is he right? Do you only love him because your Dad wanted you to - but no, you're shaking your head. "Dad doesn't interfere with relationships, and in any case, I think the whole baby thing is a secondary reason - He could have gotten around that if He needed to. Don't forget, he put you next to Jade first, and the two of you didn't fall in love. But  _we_  did. Not because Dad wanted us to, but because I love you, and you love me." Your grin is back, and Dirk is grinning too, he's grinning your grin, the grin reserved specially for you. You reach for his hand, but he pulls away sharply, and you're almost hurt until you remember that his skin burns you -

"Can we move this up to Earth?" Dirk asks, still looking at you.

Jade and Roxy shrug. "Sure."

"Yes, my friend is up there, with a grumpy-ass demon -"

Dirk chuckles. "Karkat? Karkat won't hurt her. He's the least demonic demon I've ever met. And I've met them all."

He goes through the door last. You watch him come through, watch the demonic body become shrouded in the humanoid that you love so much and can touch without feeling excruciating pain, and you dive at him, nearly pushing him back through the doors as you kiss him, but he manages to stay on this side of the portal, holding you tightly against him, kissing you as fiercely as you're kissing him. 

"John, that's inappropriate," Jade mutters, but you can hear her heading into the living room.

"Well? Is everything all right?" Comes the voice of the grumpy demon - Karkat, that's what Dirk called him.

"Everything's fine," Jade says.

"Dirky's in love and everything's perfect!" Roxy shrieks, and somehow, the rise in pitch makes up for the fact that she didn't raise the volume of her voice.

"What?" Shrieks Karkat, and he doesn't keep his voice down. "Where is - oh, oh no, I did  _not_  sign up for this, this is just bullshit -"

Dirk pulls away from you. "What's wrong, Karkles?" He asks.

"Nope, nope, nope, I'm leaving, I'm fucking gone, I cannot handle this, this isn't even borderline okay -"

He mutters to himself all the way back to the living room.

"I think we're going to be all right," you say. "I think we can do this."

Dirk is grinning your grin again. "Especially now I know you won't be leaving forever at the end of the year." He frowns. "I still won't be able to go with you, though."

"Honestly, I was terrified that you'd ask to come with me - I mean, if I'd been human, I'd have been begging you to come with me, but I wasn't, so I was terrified - I had no idea what I'd say if you asked, I had no idea what I'd do if you waved me off calmly and I had to watch you move on and then bring your soul into Heaven when you died and watch you with the person you loved for the rest of your life -"

Dirk's laughing, he's laughing at your pain - no, no he isn't: "I was terrified that you'd leave and I'd never see you again, and I'd be wandering around this town forever, keeping track of time, trying to figure out if you were still alive or if the world had been deprived of you, if you'd forgotten about me, if you remembered my name -"

And then you're laughing too, laughing and crying, and he's doing the same and it's okay because he's wearing his humanoid and it doesn't get hurt by tears, and you're wiping away his tears and he's kissing away yours, and it's not going to be okay, it's going to be wonderful, you'll be able to spend your entire existence with Dirk, you'll never have to go without him, and it's going to be incredible.

 _Thanks, Dad_ , you pray, and you feel love washing over you, and you know Dirk feels it too, because he says, "Is - is that -" and you nod, and he's crying again, and it's okay, because these are tears of happiness.

"Everything's perfect," you whisper as he leans his forehead against yours. "We're perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more chapter left, but I don't know if it'll be up tomorrow or the day after; since I'm not leaving you on a cliffhanger, I don't feel like I have to rush to write this one.  
> Thanks to all of you who commented - every time I get a new comment I basically curl up in a fucking fetal position on the floor, I get really overwhelmed. You guys are so nice, I don't know what I did to deserve such awesome readers <3


	19. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, fluff and smut and ending explanations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so maybe I lied when I said I wasn't going to rush to do this  
> I spent all of French class writing and re-writing this in my head

"Rox, John says there's another."

"Another? At this rate, all the souls will be gone within a week!"

"Roxy, it's been ten years and we've lost three souls."

"Three souls too many," she grumbles, but you know she doesn't really mind. If she did, she wouldn't be muttering about it under her breath - she'd be telling John to go screw himself. 

It took a few weeks, but after John figured out what was going on, he decided that his Dad was giving him free reign to connect Heaven and Hell, beyond just the connection between the two of you. He updated your humanoids, ending the painful period between when you returned to Hell and when your humanoid dissolved and making the door to Earth nearly pointless.

You still used it, though. If you wanted to move between Hell and Earth the way John moved between Heaven and Earth, you'd have to do what he did, and have specific times set for when you were moving back and forth. The door didn't give a shit if you'd scheduled a time or not; it was always there, and you could run up to Earth in a second if you had to.

Jade had found that she and Roxy had quite a bit in common, but she refused to meet Roxy in Hell for several weeks; she said that she would deal with the sounds of the screaming souls for the sake of her brother, but not for science. Roxy insisted that every single soul down in Hell deserved it; Jade countered with the idea that many of them had served out their sentence, and no longer deserved to suffer the way they did. So Roxy made a proposal: she would loosen the bonds holding souls in the mental state in which they arrived, allowing them to repent. If they did repent - and she specified that it had to be actual repentance, not just souls wanting to get out of Hell - she would release them and send them to Heaven. Jade thought it was a wonderful idea, and proposed it to John, who didn't even argue and may or may not have been paying attention.

So Roxy allowed souls to repent.

A year after she allowed it, your Father became restless, and two hours later, while you were sitting in John's kitchen, John told you that he felt dissonance in Hell, that there was a soul there that didn't belong, a soul who had repented.

You decided not to force John to go into Hell with you, and dragged Roxy down into the levels of Hell, where she cast a bored gaze over the souls as she wandered farther down until she stopped in front of a soul. "That one."

"Well, I can't free a soul. I'm just a lowly Prince."

She made a face. "Well, I don't  _want_ to free a soul. Screw repentance. It fucked up and never bothered feeling guilty in real life, so who gives a shit if it feels guilty now?"

"The Rogue should," you said. And reminding her that she had a reputation to uphold made her smile as she freed the soul from its chains.

Nine years after that, you're following her around the edge of the pit until she halts. "You lucky fucker," she says conversationally. "All getting freed and shit." She tugs at the chains and they dissolve in her hands. The soul floats upwards. "Didn't even stop to say thanks. What a dick." She turns to you. "You're going back up to Earth now?"

"Yeah. I've still got time." You and John worked out a system: four days on Earth together, four days in your respective realms. You still had one day left before he headed back up to Heaven, and you planned on making the most of it. 

"Tell John I said to tell Jade to get her feathery butt down here, I've got presents for her kids."

"You know, you could come up to Earth, meet Jade there. You're not exactly stuck here. This is your home, not your jail cell."

"Yeah, but..." she shrugs. "I like it down here. Also, every time I go up to Earth, I end up drinking too much."

"If you say so."

"Yeah, you're not even trying to talk. You just want to get back to Earth." She smacks you as you walk past her. "Tell Johnny I said hi."

"All right," you say as you go through the door - and nearly collide with one of Jade's offspring, and then nearly collide with a pissed-off Karkat. 

"That winged, angelic, douchebag took my book -"

"He's five -"

"And he took my book," Karkat snarls as he leaves you to hunt down the five-year-old who's probably flying around the backyard, chewing on the cover of whatever romance Karkat bought this time. 

Jade has two children, ten and five years old, a girl and a boy. She named them Jane and Jake. 

You nearly cried when Jade named Jake.

"John, Jade, Jane, and Jake?" You shrieked. "What kind of family -"

John had ignored you entirely, too busy rolling around on the floor clutching his stomach as he laughed. 

Neither of you know who the father is. You suggested that Jade reproduced asexually; the children are miniature copies of her. She whacked you when you made the mistake of saying it in front of her. 

John suggested artificial insemination - in the case of the second one, anyway. The first one, judging by Jade's anger and guilt, had been created through the usual method of human reproduction.

Jade still spent most of her time with Callie, who had become Jane and Jake's second mother, and who somehow managed to be nicer than Jade, in spite of the fact that Jade was literally an angel. Jade's unangelic impatience made you feel thousands of times better about being a good demon.

You still don't know if Jade and Callie are a couple or not. Every sign points to the fact that they are, but neither of them ever said anything to that effect. You didn't push them.

There's a car in John's driveway when you get back. You open the door and nearly whack it into the head of seven-year-old Mituna, although it's all for the best, because the wonder of the opening door distracts him from chasing after his six-year-old sister Damara, and probably smacking her with the tiny mallet in his hand. You scoop him up and carry him into the kitchen, where Aradia and Sollux are sitting at the counter. Sollux takes Mituna from you - "What are you doing? Are you bothering your sister again -"

"Thithter!" Mituna shrieks. "I'm bothering my thithter!"

"Well, you should stop that -"

"I thould thtop that!"

Aradia grimaces at you as Sollux argues with his son. "I still can't tell if Mituna has a lisp, or if he's copying Sollux." A grin flashes across her face. "Either way, Sollux isn't happy about it, and when he's angry he's absolutely hysterical, so I don't think I care."

"You haven't changed a bit, 'Radia. Still the creepiest person around."

"Thank you!"

Something narrowly misses your face - a ballet shoe. "Jade wants to know if you've seen Jake," John calls from the living room.

"He's bothering Karkat. And you could have gotten my attention by, oh, you know, calling my name instead of throwing a shoe at me. Also, Roxy says Jade should go down for a visit."

"Yup, got it," John yells.

"Where does Jade even _live_?" Sollux asks. "Can't Roxy just call her, instead of passing messages through you and John?"

"Jade's not the problem - Roxy hates using phones." There isn't a cell phone company in existence that provides service to Hell.

"Isn't she a techno freak?"

"Yeah. Doesn't stop her from hating phones."

John comes back into the room, apologizes to Aradia and Sollux, and grins at you.

Every time you see his fucking bucktoothed happy little grin you can't help but remember standing in Hell, naked, in your demon body, probably the most horrifying thing John had ever seen, and how John didn't give half a shit. 

You're not sure why it's his grin that triggers the memory. You'd think it would be triggered by tears, or anxiety about your relationship, but no, it's his grin. Maybe it's because when Roxy picked you up, held you for a moment until your legs worked again and your knees had stopped complaining so loudly, and when you followed her into your house and stood there, leaning against the wall, the first thought you had was: _if John didn't hate me before, he sure does now_. For the first time in your life, you found your demonic body to be repulsive, because it repulsed the person you loved, and for a split second you hated him for that, and then you hated _yourself_ for hating  _him_ , and then he was stumbling across the floor towards you and you couldn't imagine what was going on in his head - why was he moving towards you? - but then he asked what happened to your face, and that was  _more_ confusing, because you didn't realize he was talking about the burn marks, you thought he was talking about your body, and of course you weren't wearing your humanoid in Hell what was he thinking -? But Roxy had answered, and you understood, and you were shocked, you couldn't believe he cared or realized that the burn marks weren't just a part of your skin - how many demons could he have seen in his life? - and then he touched you, and you knew you hurt him, you were a demon with skin so hot and acidic that an angel with God's protection couldn't touch you without pain, and you knew you were evil, and you wanted John to leave, you didn't want him to be in danger anymore -

But he stayed. He stayed, and he stopped paying attention - the dork has the attention span of a gnat - and then he grinned, he grinned at you, and everything was all right. Maybe that's why his grin is connected to that particular memory: he saw what you were, everything, in your own house, and still, he loved you - no, loves you. Present tense.

You're dragged out of your thoughts by a small child with a mallet. "Who gave him this?" You grumble as you pull it out of Mituna's hand and poke him in the stomach with it. He shrieks with joy and runs off, probably expecting you to play with him - stupid kid, thinking that the Prince of Hell is going to deign to play with an obnoxious kid.

Of course, you end up playing with him for three hours until Aradia and Sollux leave, so maybe he's not so stupid after all.

 John shuts the door behind them and you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent. 

"You looked very thoughtful today," John comments. "Until Tuna hit you, anyway."

"I want to know what was going through Aradia's head when she picked that name. Mituna? Really? It's weirder than  _our_ names, and we literally aren't even human."

"You didn't answer." He doesn't give you time to answer before he's ripping away from you, turning so that you can see his smug grin. "Ha! You tried to distract me and it didn't work! I  _do_ have an attention span! Now. What were you thinking about?"

You shrug, but he's having none of that. He pushes you up against a wall and leans against you, and you're strong from years of fighting with katanas, but you're mostly just fast. He's a dancer - ten years after his first recital, he's still dancing, and you take full credit for suggesting it in the first place - and he's strong, and when it comes to brute strength, he can beat you any day. 

"What were you thinking about?"

"Um. The day you came to get me, in Hell, after we... figured out most things but before we figured out everything."

"Why on Earth were you thinking about that?"

You shrug. "Not sure. Ten year anniversary? Is it that?"

He frowns. "No, it was the day of my recital. What month is it now? September? Actually, I think it's what - the eleventh anniversary since we met?" And now he's grinning, pushing his body against yours and wrapping his arms around your neck.

"Actually - it might be eleven years to the day," you say with a frown, ignoring his hardening dick. "And I was kidding when I said that, but - I might actually be right. I think it is, it's eleven years to the day, isn't it."

And now he's chewing on his lip as he thinks, and somehow, that's more distracting than his erection, and your hands slide down his back to cup his ass, which not only derails his train of thought but picks up the train and throws it miles away from the tracks. He pulls you down for a kiss, sucking on your lips instead of his and sighing into your mouth. You're massaging his ass, he's rubbing his cock against you, and it's incredible, that he knows that the thing he's kissing is just a humanoid and that it's hiding a demonic body and he doesn't give a shit, he doesn't care at all, and you want him, you  _need_ him, and you push away from the wall and pick him up and carry him into the bedroom, and he's kissing you fiercely, greedily, and you can't even blame him, you're kissing him the same way, you want him just as badly as he wants you, and when you set him on the bed he pulls you on top of him and mutters something that you don't quite catch - 

"What'd you say?" you murmur against his neck. 

He pulls your face to his so that his mouth is just millimeters away from yours and says: "I  _said_ , you're _mine_ , you're mine, all mine, and I'm yours, and it can't possibly have been eleven years, I don't even remember the time before I met you but it feels like no time has passed since I met you - is there a period of time for that? Time that feels eternal and incredibly short?" And you're pulling off his pants but he hasn't stopped talking, he's gasping out words as you kiss his thigh, tasting every inch of him, as you kiss up his stomach and pull his shirt over his head, he's still talking, and you don't know what he's saying but you agree completely. 

He  _does_ shut up when you pull your shirt over your head.

You grin as his eyes travel over your body, travel downward, and you tug your pants off so his eyes can roam wherever they please, and then he's on top of you, somehow - you thought you were fast but no, no, John is fast, he learned from you - and he's licking your nipples, and his tongue is traveling down your body, tracing paths he's traveled before, and you hear a snap and look up and he's dropped the bottle of lube already and is stretching himself out, and it's the most incredible thing you've ever seen, and you pull him up to you for a kiss, you need to taste him, feel him, be inside him, you  _need_ him, because some people can go without the bodies of their lovers but you can't, you could never even begin to describe how attracted you are to his sense of humor and his impulsive nature and his innate kindness and his inherent ability to be an absolute asshole, but you can show him, you can show him when you make love to him, when you taste him and let him taste you and when you trust him with everything, your entire being, and when you prove to him that he can trust you with everything, because he can, and he knows it, and when he slides onto you with a gasp you hold still, you won't move until he's comfortable, no matter what - you will not hurt him - and you kiss him when he begins rocking on you, and you grip his waist when he loses his rhythm and begins frantically riding you, and you hold him against you as you arch your back and explode inside him, and when he releases and falls against you, spent, you wrap your arms around him and press kisses against his forehead, and now you're doing what he does, you're muttering non-stop, muttering things that mean much more than they should:

"I love you, I love you, I love you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading! I loved writing for you, it was great to log on to so many nice comments uvu  
> I hope you enjoyed the final chapter!


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